The Inheritance
by MJRod
Summary: IV. Season 4.19: As THC season 4 continues, Mano has discovered in "La Carta" an unexpected bequest from the late Don Sebastian: two prize stallions. What will he do with his inheritance? Follow Mano, Buck, & Wind as they head to Sonora for some horse business, forging new bonds & making new enemies. Please read & review this latest installment co-authored by VKS & MJRod.
1. Chapter 1

The Inheritance

By VKS & MJRod

 _This story, set in season four of "The High Chaparral," takes place after "La Carta," when Mano learns that his late father, Don Sebastian, has bequeathed him two fine stallions._

 **The Inheritance Chapter One: Two Kings**

"Checkmate, I believe, Señor Cannon," Don Domingo de Montoya purred as he blew out a stream of cigar smoke, sipped a brandy, and sat up straight in the tall backed chair opposite John Cannon in the latter's study at the High Chaparral ranch. A marble chess set rested on a table between the two men, John's white chessmen fewer in number than the black ones of his opponent, who had just moved a bishop in place to check the white king.

Cannon's grizzled brow furrowed as he surveyed the board. "You've got me this time, Domingo," he admitted at last, shaking his head and exhaling hard.

"I believe we have played to a draw then," Domingo said. "You have won two games, as have I. Shall we start another to determine the victor?"

"Yes, I think we should, but maybe after supper. Victoria won't like it if we're late to the table again," John replied, pausing, then adding, "I, uh, know you are used to dining later in the evening, but on a working ranch, even an afternoon chess game is a luxury, much less an evening one. We have to eat early so we can be up early. Always a lotta work to do."

"Ah, so I have noticed, but this is not a problem. I am happy to follow the customs of your household. Remember, Señor Cannon, I am a bachelor and, unlike my brother, have never adhered to a strict schedule of any sort."

Yup, thought John. Just a schedule dictated by brothels and gambling dens. He smiled at his guest. "Well then, after dinner perhaps?"

"I should enjoy that," Domingo purred again. This man Cannon is a good man. Upright. Honest. But rigid. Still, a good man, he thought. My niece has done surpassingly well. And this man was _her_ choice. My niece knows her own mind. My brother could not have convinced her to marry one she did not desire, no matter what that pompous Sebastian may have thought. No, she has done well, he mused as he rose. "Excuse me, Señor Cannon. We dine at six, I believe? I should like to prepare."

John nodded, watching his guest glide from the room. The man was a mystery to him. Easier to get along with than Sebastian but somehow less trustworthy. Not that he had trusted his father-in-law, but he had developed a grudging respect for the man. And his gratitude for Don Sebastian's insisting on the arranged marriage with Victoria would be eternal. He loved his wife. She was, he thought, the most important person in the world to him. She and Blue. Blue, ah, when was that boy coming home? He shook his head and rose to spend an hour or so at his desk, going over the endless ledgers. Just when was Domingo leaving? He and Ruiz should be taking off with Mano and Buck soon to see to those horses.

Cannon grinned as he thought of Diablo. Mano now owned his father's prized stallion and had discussed bringing the horse to the High Chaparral permanently. John recalled the conversation with his brother-in-law, the latter still recovering from a comanchero's bullet and only just discovering that Don Sebastian had, for all practical purposes, bequeathed him Diablo and his son, Toronado. Now _that_ was some fine horseflesh. The fact that Domingo had not concealed the letter from Manolito boded well for both, John thought. His grin broadened as he remembered what Mano had said on the front porch the day before.

"Juano, this news from Tío Domingo is most surprising."

"Yes, Mano, and it's going to go a long way toward making yours and Buck's breeding operation the best in the territory."

"I agree, John. But two such stallions of the same line require distance. Ruiz thinks perhaps Diablo should be kept here, at the Chaparral. Would you be amenable to this?"

"Of course," John agreed, establishing no conditions.

"And you then perhaps could use him as a stud for some of your own mares, as payment for keeping him? Ah, within reason?" Mano offered. "As long as these horses are bred for the Chaparral, this would not interfere with Buck's and my business, no es verdad?"

"Well, that's mighty generous of you," John said. He was not surprised by the offer. It made sense and was fair. But he was glad that Mano had been the one to suggest it.

And in a few days, Mano would be rested and recovered enough so that he, Señor Ruiz, Domingo, Buck, and, John guessed, the hands Joe and Pedro, would head down to Rancho Montoya. I'd like to send Sam instead of Pedro to fetch that horse, John mused with a small frown. But I need my foreman here and Pedro does speak the language. Gonna take two good men to get Diablo up here safe, that's for sure. Likely Mano and maybe Buck, too, will wanna tend to business in Sonora before they head back. Probably business in a cantina or two as well as horse trading, he shook his head. Still, what a horse to have at the ranch.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Inheritance Chapter Two: Three Amigos**

"Mano, hey Mano?" Buck Cannon rasped as he sidled up to the slatted wooden hammock strung between two posts in the shade of the ranch house porch. Edging back his hat, Buck wiped sweat from his brow with a dusty black shirtsleeve, leaving a swipe of dirt across his forehead. "You awake, amigo?" he said to the caballero stretched out on the hammock.

"I am _now_ ," replied a voice from beneath a silver studded black sombrero covering the face of the reclining man. The hammock's occupant groaned and shifted himself upright to a sitting position, squinting up into the late afternoon sun to regard his friend.

"How you feelin', Mano?" Buck asked.

"Eh, better," he said, wincing. "It hurts sometimes still to breathe but I am all right. Soon Victoria will realize I can probably carry wood for her again." Buck grimaced at this, nudging him. Mano saw and regretted his last comment.

"Oh, you are recovered enough to do chores now, are you?" his sister's voice came from behind him.

"Victoria, it is not polite to sneak up on people," Mano said with an irritated sigh. Buck laughed. Mano's in fer it now, he thought. Better change the subject quick before them two get after it. He glanced at his sister-in-law. Nah, Victoria's smilin' like a angel. She ain't really mad.

"Mano, I bin to see the foals an' mares. They all look good, compadre."

"Yes, Buck. I know. I have been there three times today. I only just lay down for a few minutes to rest my eyes," he turned to his sister. "Ruiz insisted. He refuses to go far from the stables."

"Señor Ruiz has always spoiled you, Manolo," she said, trying not to laugh. Mano saw she was amused and not annoyed, so he smiled at her, too.

"John figures you an' me be headin' to Mexico soon, Mano, to get yore stallions," Buck said. "Says he'll send a coupla men with us."

"Only Diablo, remember Buck. I have discussed this with John and Ruiz. Toronado is too young. Diablo is a better fit for the Chaparral. But you know what this means for the foals…"

"Yeah, I do. We gonna haveta sell the fillies. Cain't be breedin' them to Toronado's daddy."

"No, we cannot. But they should bring us a nice price. Maybe we try Texas, eh?" Mano suggested.

"You are selling them?" Victoria cried. "No, Mano! Can you not take them with you to Sonora?"

"Hermanita mía...you understand bloodlines…" 

"All right," she said, disappointed.

"I know," he reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. Such beautiful foals.

Buck spoke up: "I think John figures mebbe yore gonna wanta stay down there awhile, get Toronado squared away."

"Sí," Mano rolled a tongue around the inside of his cheek, pondering, then looked up at his friend. "Buck, I think we both need to stay in Sonora for a time. I think we should send Diablo back with the men while you and I look over that old mustang herd. We need to decide if there is anything worth taking from it. We really do."

"You don't need me fer that, Mano. I know about ridin' 'em. I mean I kin tell if the horse is kinda strong or kinda ornery, but I don't really know all that stuff about breedin' and such. That's yore area o' ex-pert-eez, S'nor Montoya."

"Don't try that with me, Buck," Mano shot back. "You know just as much as I do about what a good horse looks like and whether a mare will be strong enough for breeding or has the structure to produce good foals. I want you with me, amigo."

"Manolito, Buck...who will you take down with you to Sonora?" Victoria asked, her tone almost syrupy, edging closer to her brother and brother-in-law.

"Well, John mentioned Pedro an' Joe," Buck replied. "They kin handle Diablo. They done it before."

"Yes, two should suffice," Mano affirmed.

"Well," Victoria continued, soft, persuasive. "I have an idea." What is she up to? Mano thought. He tilted his chin back to look at her with slitted eyes. Buck shifted his head to the side to regard her as well. She waited a minute, aware of their attention, then added, "Why don't you both also take Wind?"

"Wind?" Mano exclaimed.

"What do we need Wind for?" Buck asked.

"You both have said that he has been a great help to you with your horses…"

"Yes," Mano groaned, "but…"

"And you have said he is very good with the horses. He has very good instincts. You have said it yourselves. I have heard you," Victoria pressed.

"But hermanita mía, a half breed Pawnee in Sonora? The Mexicans will not like it. The Apache will not like it. It will not work."

"Yeah, Victoria, I gotta agree with Mano here. An if he's gonna stay safe down there, he'll haveta stick close to the both of us, an' that boy don't do that too awful well."

"Es verdad. He always goes off on his own. He comes and goes as he pleases. He…"

"In other words, my _brothers_ ," she elongated the last word. "He is very much like the two of you."

Buck and Mano looked at each other. Buck blew out his breath. Mano winced.

"Well, not 'xactly, Victoria…" Buck said.

"Oh, don't you two see?" she cried, then added, softer, "this boy does not have a place. He is finding his way in the world. Señor Ruiz thinks very much of him. He told me so himself. Maybe if he goes down with you to Rancho Montoya, he can learn even more about these horses you are raising and training and, oh Manolo, Buck, please take him, please! Give him a chance! I feel that you should."

"Well, Victoria," Buck replied. "The thing is, we don't even know if he'll come with us. That boy don't do anything he don't wanna do, and that's a fact. An' John'll have to give the okay, too."

"Sí, de verdad," Mano shook his head in agreement.

"You will ask him then?" she pressed. They looked at each other. Mano shrugged his shoulders. Buck worked his mouth and looked down.

"All right, my sister," Mano said at last. "We will do this. But what about John?"

"Oh, do not be worrying about John," she answered with a smile. "I shall talk to him. And now I believe my roast beef is done. If you will excuse me." She turned on her heel, then paused, "Oh, and Manolito, perhaps tomorrow you will be bringing me some more wood?" He returned the question with a smirk and a motion of his hand to imitate her talking. She pretended not to see the gesture and bounced into the house to put the finishing touches on dinner, leaving Mano and Buck looking at each other.

"Wind?" Mano said, sighing. "Well, he has been a big help to us, compadre."

"An' we been payin' him, too." Buck scratched his chin. "I tell you whut, I think I'm gonna worry 'bout John, if he says no to her." He chuckled. "But Mano, I still ain't sure you need me down there."

"Oh yes, more than ever, compadre. Hombre, when was the last time we had a little fun, eh? A few drinks in a few cantinas, a few señoritas, eh?"

"I'm not saying that wouldn't be nice, but who'll look after the foals an' mares if we all gone?"

"Oh, Sam can oversee the work. He will assign a man to them if we ask. Perhaps Arrigo?"

"Aw right, but what we gonna do with Wind? Boy don't even drink. An' I cain't see him with no señoritas, neither."

Mano exhaled and shook his head. "Ay yi yi. Ah, we shall think of something, compadre. Chico in the cantina won't care if he is a Pawnee as long as he pays. I suppose he could go on to the rancho with Ruiz and my uncle."

"Uncle Dom? What do he think of Pawnees?"

"I have no idea, Buck. But I think we are about to find out. Help me up, eh?"

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Inheritance Chapter Three: Wind**

When they found Wind in the stables a short while later to gauge his interest, all he said was, "Sonora? All right. I'll go with you."

"Boy, you gonna haveta stick close to us, you know," Buck urged.

"Why? Do you need my help finding your way around Mexico?"

"Sonarans do not like Apaches or Pawnees, my friend. Buck is right. It could be dangerous," Mano warned.

"I'm only half Pawnee. But why ask me to go if you don't want me to go with you?"

"It ain't that we don't want you to go. It's that when we are there, we want you to stay around us. You cain't be takin' off whenever you feel like it. Tha's all we're saying," Buck explained.

"He is right, amigo. We must have your word that you will not go off on your own. This time, safety in numbers, eh? A man sometimes needs his... _friends_ ," Mano said, looking the young man in the eye. Wind nodded, a single slight nod to show he understood.

"Ah, bueno," Ruiz, the wizened stable master from Rancho Montoya who had watched in silence, said with a smile, placing a gentle hand on Wind's shoulder. "Muchacho, I like what I see in you. You are good with the horses. You remind me of this one," he indicated Mano, "when he was young. Although I think you may listen better than he did."

Wind turned calm eyes on Mano. Oh yes, Ruiz, Mano thought, I am sure that resounding endorsement will impress him. But he also knew Valencio Ruiz did not give out compliments he did not mean. Whether he knew it or not, Wind had received a high accolade. I just hope he appreciates this, Mano thought, surprised to see a faint smile cross Wind's face.

Ay yi yi, so much to do if we are to leave in a few days, Mano mused, as Ruiz returned to a workbench and Buck walked off to wash up for supper. Each mare with her own special food. Her own idiosyncrasies that only he, Ruiz, and Wind knew. As important as his stallions were, stallions are useless if the mares are in poor condition. These mares were the future of his and Buck's herd. They must be pampered as he would pamper any lady.

"Wind?" Mano said as he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the stables, peering out into the yard. "Have you seen Sam?"

"He put his horse in the back corral about a half hour ago," the boy replied.

"Will you be here for a while?"

"Yes. The gray horse needs her feed mixed. And the sorrel is having some trouble getting her foal to suckle."

"Gracias. I should be right back to help you," Mano replied. Wind looked at him, turned and walked to the grain sacks while Mano strode into the yard, catching Sam between the corral and the bunkhouse.

* * *

"You're taking _Wind_?" was Sam's deep-voiced response as Mano asked him for Arrigo's services.

"Sí, we have some work to do south of the border. Wind can help us."

"Big John okay with that?"

"Oh yes. At least I think so. If not, eh, we shall know soon enough." Like after dinner, Mano thought. "It is, ah, partly my sister's idea."

"Oh," Sam nodded, understanding that if Miz Cannon wanted it, Big John was likely to say yes. "All right. When're you leaving?"

"In a couple of days. Arrigo must be shown exactly what I want done with my, er, our mares. Can you spare him for the next hour or so?"

"Sure. Whatever you need, amigo. Hey, how you feelin' by the way? All healed up now?"

"Gracias, Sam. I am really much better. Not ciento por ciento but almost," Mano smiled. Good to have a friend like Sam Butler, he thought. Joe, Pedro, Reno, they, too, had asked after him. Good to be...he thought to his surprise...good to be home.

"Arrigo!" Sam's bass voice cut through the air like the long, low whistle of a train. Only the deaf could ignore it.

"Sí, Sam?" the vaquero answered, pushing long stringy black hair out of a serious face as he jogged over.

"Arrigo, I want you to go with Mano here and find out what he needs you to do for those mares of his. You're gonna be responsible for them the next few weeks, or however long he and Buck are gone. Starting tomorrow. You got that?"

"Sure, Sam."

"Come on, compadre. Wind, Ruiz, and I will show you what to do," Mano said, steering the hand toward the stables.

"Hey Mano, how come Wind is not doing this looking after job?" Arrigo asked as they walked.

"Wind is coming to Sonora with Buck and me and Señor Ruiz."

"He is?"

"No need to sound so surprised, amigo."

Arrigo raised his eyebrows but said nothing else. He nodded to Wind as they entered the stables. The Mexican hand listened as Mano explained the differences among the mares, how each was to be treated, what to look out for. Ruiz listened in, adding a suggestion or two before, satisfied, returning to his work crafting small headcollars for the new foals. These will ensure these niños can be trained before they are sold and will fetch Manolito a higher price, Ruiz thought, smiling. Wind showed Arrigo the mixtures of food each mare preferred. "I'll show you with the gray mare," Wind offered and they all walked to the stall together.

"I understand," Arrigo said at last. You can do this, hombre, he said to himself. You love these animals. But there will be drawbacks. No taking off to Tucson for some fun. You will be tucking in these mares every night. Ay, chihuahua!

"In case you forget," Mano said, "I will write out the instructions and leave them in the tack room."

"That is not necessary, Mano, but it may be a good idea...in case something should happen to me," Arrigo grinned. "Write them out in English, sí?" Mano smiled. Wind, Ruiz, and he all knew, nonetheless, that they would check on Arrigo over the next few days, just to be sure he understood the routine.

"Come on, I'll show you where we keep everything for the mares and foals," Wind said to Arrigo. Mano watched as they walked off, then decided to look in on the horses himself before heading inside. He paused before each stall, peering within. His brow furrowed as he observed the sorrel mare, and he called to his old friend.

"Ruiz, what do you think of the sorrel? Have we bred her too young? She was the youngest of those six we bought and probably a maiden. I am worried about her. She is not picking up condition as quickly as the others," Mano asked the man who knew horses better than anyone. "I may want to keep this colt. But she must care for him, amigo."

"Manolito, she just needs a little more time and a little more care. She will be fine. She is strong and beautifully made. I think her good breeding will see her through this. Yes, she was probably a maiden, but time and patience will do the job I think," Ruiz replied.

Mano nodded, resuming his inspection. He would make a special mention of the sorrel to Arrigo. A written note or two would help. Thoughts swirled through his head as he checked the horses. Ay, maybe now Buck and I can relax and enjoy a little time away. So consumed have I been by Rancho Montoya, getting shot, dealing with Lobo. So much to do. So much to think about. And these mares and their foals. He shook his head. Victoria will hate it but the fillies must be sold on, either soon after they are weaned or else as yearlings. He looked with regret at one of the prettiest fillies, that thrown by the bay mare. No, it must be done. There is no point investing time to train them since we cannot use them.

The colts, ah, now they are a different story. He smiled. If both show promise, they might be allowed to mature into full stallions: sons of Toronado, able to breed in four or maybe five years. Depends how quickly they come along. We can breed to outside mares, and the fillies from them could cross back with Diablo. Enough distance in the bloodline at that point. Much depends on how their bones develop and whether they keep the manners, intelligence, and temperament of their sire. We will wait until they are yearlings to decide. After all, we can always geld them and sell them to John as ranch horses. He smiled at the thought of selling to John as he headed toward the ranch house with a wave to Wind and Arrigo, who looked up to acknowledge his exit, then returned to discussing the mares.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Inheritance Chapter Four: The Last Supper and Taking Leave**

Two days later, after a few more lost chess games, John Cannon had reached his limit with his wife's uncle. Well, at least the man is leaving tomorrow, he thought. But where in tarnation is he? He knows dinner's at six. A quick glance at his pocket watch told John it was a quarter past. His scowl emphasized his displeasure.

"Victoria, is your uncle ever coming down to dinner?" John's voice boomed, if not loud enough to wake the dead, indeed loud enough for Don Domingo to hear upstairs, Victoria realized. She took a deep breath to keep herself calm, and she replied in a honeyed tone.

"Tío is coming soon, my husband. We shall have a wonderful farewell dinner together. He will be leaving too early in the morning to enjoy breakfast, so we must say our goodbyes tonight. You know this, John."

"Hmmm!" his expression grim, his eyebrows a straight line, John breathed hard but said nothing more.

"Buenas tardes!" Mano trotted downstairs, greeting them all with a warm smile. He looks much better than he did a week ago, Victoria thought, beaming.

"I am hungry enough to eat me a horse!" a voice hollered as the casa's outer door banged open and shut as if blown by the wind. Buck stomped across the tiled floor, smacking a dusty hat against a dusty leg until he met the outrage in Victoria's eyes. He stopped as if a rope had been thrown about his neck, looked down, and backed up without a word, spinning on his heels to stride outside. John chuckled. Mano smirked.

"Your brother!" Victoria announced, hands on her hips and chin elevated in disdain. Mano choked back his laughter in the guise of a coughing fit. John had less luck concealing his guffaw. "Oooh!" Victoria stormed back into the kitchen. John caught the words "cabeza dura" and "bruto," not sure if she meant him or Buck. He exhaled with vigor and glanced at his brother-in-law, who shrugged.

"I am sure my sister was referring to Buck just now, John," Mano said with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I am sure she was," John shook his head. The two men looked at each other a moment and chuckled "Well, she wants this to be a nice dinner and all. You'd think Buck would have figured it out by now."

"One would think," Mano admitted. "But only for Victoria would he even consider washing up for dinner."

"Yup," John agreed. "Mano, do you think your uncle is coming down anytime soon? It is getting late." Just then his question was answered by a cultured voice from atop the stairs.

"Good evening," Don Domingo announced. "I trust you are all refreshed and ready for our meal?"

"Tío, we are certainly ready for our meal, but perhaps not everyone is, ah, refreshed," Mano said, pointing to the front door where a cleaner and red-faced Buck re-entered, brushing off his shirt with his now ungloved hands, scrubbed pink.

"Shall we go in?" Domingo asked, sweeping through the den, a matador lacking only the cape, and leading the way into the dining room while the rest followed. "Ah, what a lovely repast." Dishes of green beans, saffron rice, and buttery corn awaited on the table draped with Victoria's best cloth and accented by polished silver. The scent of yeasty rolls filled the room. "And such beauty in the desert," Domingo exclaimed as he leaned in to sniff a flower from a bowl at the center. He sat to the right of the place he knew his niece would sit, while the others assumed their spots, John with a small frown.

"Good evening, Domingo," John said, his tone flat as he settled in his chair.

"Señor Cannon." The Don inclined his head.

Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open and Victoria backed into the room, her hip, encased in a snug green skirt, leaning against the door as she carried a large tray of roasted hens. Her skirt caught on a splinter and she staggered a bit under the weight of the fowls while striving not to snag her clothes. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed. Domingo burst from his chair the exact second as John. Both strode to Victoria, at the same instant grabbing opposite ends of the tray and finding themselves face to face, separated only by chickens.

"Allow me, Señor Cannon," Domingo crooned.

"I've got it," John said, insistent.

Both men stared. A showdown over poultry that lasted half a minute.

"As you wish," Domingo broke the silence, surrendering his portion to John, who carried the tray to the table while his adversary, sensing his advantage, made for Victoria. "My niece, permit me to extricate you." Domingo said, with a swift stroke freeing Victoria's skirt from the rough patch of door. "There you are, my dear."

"Oh, thank you, Tío," Victoria exclaimed while John glared. Next, Domingo moved to pull out his niece's chair before John could even react. She smiled her gratitude. "How nice to have such a gentleman at my table."

John glared. Buck's eyes opened wide. Mano bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

* * *

At last I feel halfway decent, Mano thought as he trotted down the few stairs of the High Chaparral ranch house early the next morning. Buck was outside saddling their horses. As Mano started for the door, his sister's voice stopped him. He glanced back into the living room to see her sitting in a chair before the hearth. The dying embers of last night's fire glowed red and orange in the pre-dawn darkness.

"Manolito?"

"Victoria, why are you up? It is long before daylight, muchacha. You knew we were leaving early today. We said our goodbyes last night. Tío and Buck are already outside."

"I know, Mano. I just wanted to have a word with you before you go." She rose and walked to her brother as she spoke.

"All right. Let us be quick though. This may surprise you, but I do not wish to keep them waiting."

"Mano, we have not talked about Papá's letter." She would bring that up, he thought. To think I believed we had avoided this conversation. He sighed.

"You want to know if I have made a decision about the rancho?"

"And have you?"

"Not yet. I am thinking about it. That is all I have promised I will do. To think about it." He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Do not worry, Victoria. Anyway, Tío is going to live a very long time and it may well be, cómo se dice, a moot point. He may outlive me. And then you can all enjoy yourselves deciding who will run Rancho Montoya." He chuckled.

"Te quiero, Manolito. Ten cuidado," she kissed him in return and watched, unsmiling, as he nodded, turned, pulled on his hat, and strode out the door. Hermano, she thought, I trust you to do the right thing, but I do wish you would make up that mind of yours. Men! A half smile crossed her face and she spun to head for the kitchen to start the morning coffee. She was much too awake to go back to bed and John needed his rest.

* * *

Outside, Mano saw Buck already mounted on Rebel. Ruiz, patient and mild, waited on his horse. Joe and Pedro were just riding up from the corral. There was no sign of Tío Domingo.

"Where is my uncle?" Mano inquired, bemused.

"Here nephew, behind you!" Domingo's voice was soft and good humored. Mano looked around and spotted him lounging on the hammock, puffing on his ever present cigarillo, a small smile on his face.

"Are we leaving now, Tío?"

"But of course, my nephew. I was merely waiting for you." In one fluid motion, Domingo sprang from the hammock, approached the tie-rail, untied his horse, stepped around and mounted. Madre de Dios, Mano observed, he looks like a matador, a ballet dancer, an acrobat.

Feeling stiff and awkward in comparison, Mano walked over to Macadoo, untied the riata, guided his foot into the stirrup, and eased himself up into the saddle. He winced, grimacing. Ah, these ribs still hurt and the place the bullet lodged is sore. Two days on this horse will not help. He exhaled hard and patted Macadoo. "Vamonos, Mac," he said in a low voice.

Domingo led the way out of the gate. Julius Caesar at the helm of the armies of Rome on their conquest of Britain, glorious, head held high, thought Mano. No, that would have involved a ship or two. Maybe Caesar conquering the Gauls. Better that. I never liked the French. Ay yi yi, still what a picture! Tío, you are something. I do not know what, but something.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Inheritance Chapter Five: Campfires**

They were a little way down the trail when Wind joined them, appearing out of the brush, as if he had been waiting for them, which was the case. These white men move as noisy tortoises, he concluded. I have heard them talking for the last five minutes.

"Hey Wind, where you been, boy?" Buck asked with a broad smile to show he wasn't really mad. He had been worried some when Wind wasn't there when they was leaving. Well, no skin off my teeth if he don't come, he had figured. Wind's comin' was Victoria's idea after all.

"Nowhere," Wind answered. "I've been right here, waiting."

Literal, isn't he? Mano thought. Sometimes he can try one's patience. "Hey, muchachos," Mano called. "I think we should stop in the early afternoon to rest, eat, cool the horses. We could take a short siesta and then ride on in the cool of the evening. Our overnight camp will then be somewhat further from the hacienda, but the horses will be better for the rest."

"There's a good spot just over a half day's ride from here. A spring, some shade and a nice group of rocks for protection," Wind's tone irritated Mano, although he did not know why.

"Sí, Wind, this is where I usually stop, amigo. It is well known, I think, to all of us who have traveled this road to the Rancho Montoya many times, no?" Mano smiled, but he could see Wind's spine stiffen. Ah, why did I say that? Mano thought, annoyed with himself. This muchacho can be so irksome. But he was only trying to help. Manolito, he is young. You have nothing to prove. Try to be gracious. An awkward silence descended.

"Hey, Buck, did you hear the one about…?" Joe broke the tension with a small joke that turned into a ribald tale. Buck topped him with a worse one that had them all hooting and howling. Most of them. Don Domingo even chuckled but Wind said nothing, his face a stony mask. Ay chihuahua, this is going to be a very long trip, thought Mano.

* * *

The afternoon campsite was indeed a good one, with plenty of water and plenty of shade. They loosened their cinches and then let the horses drink their fill from the spring, afterwards tying them to a picket line under a tree. Pedro got a fire going and coffee on. Fetching his bulging saddlebags, he pulled out an iron skillet. This he placed in the fire and started warming flour tortillas he unwrapped from a cheesecloth. He stacked the hot tortillas on a tin plate, then from his saddlebags pulled out some bacon and an onion. He tossed the bacon into the skillet, then sliced the onion into the pan. As the bacon and onion sizzled, he took out two large glass canning jars filled with chili con carne, beef chunks in a spicy brown mole sauce, pouring the mixture into the skillet and heating all throughout.

"Hey, amigo, where'd you git that food?" Buck asked.

"Ah, la señora Cannon. She gave me a sack with some things in it. I think she wanted her uncle to have a good meal. She said I had to bring back the skillet but not to worry about the jars."

"Mano, yore sister is a pure angel, ya know. A angel!" and Buck helped himself to a tortilla that he stuffed to bursting with meat, settling down with his back against a rock, half in the shade and half in the sun, to enjoy his food and his cup of coffee.

"Sí, Buck, she is. Gracias, Pedro," Mano likewise took some food and coffee and settled himself next to Buck. His tortilla was not stuffed to overflowing and he ate with less enthusiasm than his friend. Domingo watched, his lips curving in slight amusement. He had only helped himself to a cup of coffee and he sat on the other side of the fire, in a spot that was more shaded. He sipped his coffee and then lit one of his cigarillos which he puffed on with relish.

After Joe and Ruiz had seen to the comfort of the horses, Joe grabbed some chow and sat not too far from Don Domingo. Accepting coffee from Pedro, Ruiz served himself food also, slipping around the fire to sit farthest away, content with his own company. Wind approached the fire, but did not squat or even bend. Pedro looked up at him with a puzzled expression. "Qué quieres?" he asked "What would you like, Wind? Some food? Some coffee?"

Wind moved his right hand, palm down, in a sideways sweeping motion that started waist high. Pedro's eyebrows hitched up a notch. He knew what this meant: nothing is required. Wind, silent, turned and strode off to the edge of the clearing. Pedro scratched his head and worked his mouth. "All right. More for me, amigo," he muttered while scooping some beef into a tortilla and folding the whole so that he could also eat.

"Hey, compadre," Mano nudged Buck and indicated Wind with a tilt of his chin and an eyebrow raised in a question. Buck nodded, mouth full, watching. My job, I guess, Buck said to himself after a few minutes. That boy's standing like a cigar store Injun. He took a final bite, levered himself upright, and marched over to Wind.

"How you be doing, Wind?" Buck asked. "Everythin' okay? You ain't hungry or thirsty? No answer came. Buck's brow furrowed and he glanced at Mano who shrugged his shoulders and with a nod of his head, indicated that Buck should try again. "Boy it shore is hot, ain't it?" Buck looked back at Mano who grimaced. "You ever been down this way afore, Wind?"

"Many years ago. I was small. My mother was captured by the Apache after my father died. The Apache brought us into Mexico," Wind answered in a monotone, remembering, his eyes distant, not looking at Buck.

"That must a been mighty hard to lose yore pa so young."

"I do not remember my father, but life is a journey one must travel alone. You cannot rely on others for your safety or comfort," Wind replied without looking at Buck. Boy, I don't know what to say to that, Buck said to himself. Guess I won't say nuthin'. He ambled back over to the rock and sat down again, puzzled.

* * *

As the shadows lengthened, the men judged it time to move on. "Hey, Joe," Mano nudged his friend, who went over to the horses. Pedro kicked dirt on the remains of the fire, having earlier packed away the leftovers and coffee, rinsing the tin plates and cups in the spring and wiping out the skillet. Ruiz helped Joe tighten the cinches and once the horses were ready, they all mounted and set out on the trail in a more subdued mood. No talking commenced and no laughter sounded. They kept a watchful eye for comancheros and Apaches, but each man stayed lost in his own thoughts. Wind don't speak lessen he's spoke to, Buck thought. Cain't tell if he's as pre-occupied as the rest of us seem to be, but this ride to overnight camp shore seems to be takin' a long time.

Hours after sunset, they reached the small clearing surrounded by cottonwoods and boulders just north of the border where they often camped overnight en route to Rancho Montoya. A stream bubbled nearby. Joe and Pedro dismounted, handling duties as they had that afternoon, with Joe seeing to the horses while Pedro built a fire to heat the remains of Señora Cannon's beef and mole, doling out the last of the tortillas. After a quick bite, Joe told Mano that he would take first watch. Pedro volunteered for the next, Ruiz for the next, and Buck for the last, "Gracias, amigos," Mano said with a slight smile, realizing he had been out-maneuvered. His friends understood his injuries were not yet healed and wanted him to get a full night's sleep. Don Domingo, who did at last eat a little beef in a tortilla, was not consulted, which suited him fine. Wind had disappeared when they settled into camp and despite Buck's cursing, they all knew he was unlikely to return until dawn.

They broke camp the next morning before the sun was up and found Wind waiting for them on the trail. Nobody said a word. Buck just looked at Wind and shook his head.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Inheritance Chapter Six: At Casa Montoya**

They arrived in Sonora in the afternoon. The nearer they came to Rancho Montoya, the more the procession resembled that of Julius Caesar and his legions. Don Domingo again took the lead and, shoulders erect and head high, rode between the bronze lions guarding the entrance to the rancho. The guards snapped to attention as the patrón passed, waving his gloved hand in a single smooth salutation. If the men had been wearing uniforms they would have saluted, thought Mano, amused.

"Pacquito?" Ruiz called for his grandson, a boy of eleven, as they rode into the rancho courtyard. "Ven aquí, muchacho, por favor."

"Abuelíto!" Pacquito Ruiz ran to his grandfather, who tousled the boy's head and gave him a brief embrace. Another boy, shorter and stouter, rushed up also. "Hola, Estéban," Ruiz said, giving the second boy's head a light pat.

"Pacquito, you and Estéban take our horses to the stables, sí? Unsaddle them and give them food and water, por favor. Then turn them out into the smaller corral."

"Sí, Abuelo!" Pacquito replied as the boys scurried to do as instructed.

"Gentlemen, you will accompany my nephew and myself inside the hacienda, por favor," Domingo announced, issuing a command in the form of an invitation as he made for the front door. Might as well, Joe thought, as he and Pedro headed in, yanking off their hats. Ruiz watched the boys as they led the horses away, then, once they were out of sight, removed his hat also. Mano put his hand on Ruiz's shoulder and nudged him along.

"Valencio, the horses will wait. Come inside. We all need to eat something," Mano said, walking alongside Ruiz. Only Wind hesitated, unmoving, as the other men walked in. Buck saw and edged over to the young man.

"C'mon boy, let's go in. We ain't got no choice," Buck grinned, putting an arm around Wind's shoulder and leading him through the large doorway. Wind allowed the contact without drawing back, but his face remained blank, his mouth a straight line, his eyes flat, almost dull.

* * *

"Patrón! Don Manolo!" Pepe greeted his master and his master's nephew, then scuttled off to organize the servants and kitchen staff to prepare the afternoon meal for the additional men. Pepe had anticipated the patrón's return sometime this week, so the staff was not unprepared. Three, four extra? Pepe thought...ah, this is nothing. I remember well when Don Sebastian could show up with an extra twenty, giving very little notice. During Pepe's tenure, Montoya kitchens were always ready for guests. Besides, these Chaparral men were easy to please. But who was that young one? Pepe had never seen him before. He looked like an Apache. Well, if he came with the patrón and Don Manolo, he must be acceptable. Still, Pepe's eyebrows lowered as he glanced at Wind, then scurried away.

"Cafe, señores?" Pepe asked moments later as he returned with two servants bearing a large coffee urn and a tray filled with cups, saucers, a silver sugar bowl, and a crystal pitcher of cream. By this time, all the men had settled into armchairs or upon the red velvet sofa in the main salón. Don Domingo assumed his seat in the largest upholstered armchair beside the fire, looking for all the world like a king on his throne, thought Mano, who remembered his father also sitting in that grand chair.

Never can I see enough of this place, Pedro mused, whistling under his breath as his eyes swept over the large room. Dios mío, that painting...that is the one Don Sebastian brought with him when he came to the High Chaparral. I remember hanging it. He nudged Joe and gestured to the impressive Goya over the fireplace. "I think it is worth a lot of money," he whispered. Joe nodded. Neither had any idea that the painting was priceless. Both looked uncomfortable, but at least they had been here before and knew what to expect.

Only Wind remained standing. What is he waiting for? Mano wondered. If he keeps standing there or sits on the floor like an Apache...I shall not be responsible for my actions. Ay, Bendita! Victoria, what have you done to us by insisting we bring this one? This boy will not act like that in my home, Ah, Mano, what is this? Is Casa Montoya now your home, too? Qué raro. This house you have avoided does feel like home. Vaya, Manolito, show some generosity. This boy hides behind a mask. A facade. You ought to know all about that, eh? Don't allow him to annoy you. You are better than that, hombre.

"Please, sit down young man!" Domingo said to Wind, the patrón's voice velvety and amused.

Wind edged into a chair behind him, sitting down with a bump, upright and stiff. A servant handed him a cup of coffee which he accepted with a reflex action, followed by confusion. He was not used to drinking from fine china cups, much less delicate ones perched on saucers. Mano saw his discomfort and felt ashamed of his earlier irritation. From his position on the velvet couch, he leaned over toward Wind, catching his eye.

"Hey amigo," Mano said in a soft, confidential tone. "If you wish to go to the stables and look at the stallion Diablo, you are welcome to do so." Wind nodded. His face relaxed, a faint smile flashing over it before the blank look returned. He set down his coffee cup on a chest in the corner before slipping out the door.

"Perdoname, I will go with him," Ruiz said, setting down his coffee cup and following Wind.

"Ay yi yi, Buck, what are we going to do with that muchacho?" Mano whispered to Buck beside him on the couch, gesturing with his chin toward the door through which Wind had just swept, very much like his name.

"No idee, partner, that's yore dee-part-ment!" Buck rasped, slurping his coffee.

* * *

"Thank you, Don Domingo," Joe Butler said, an hour and a half later, from his place at the massive carved Spanish oak table in the Montoya dining room. "If you'll excuse us, Pedro and me need to check on our horses and Diablo. That was sure a fine meal."

"Sí, Patrón," Pedro nodded in agreement. "Muchas gracias. Permiso. I will go with Joe."

"Señores, the servants will also show you to your quarters among my vaqueros," Don Domingo said. "Tonight, we dine at ten, if you should care to join us. If not, please inform Pepe and he will arrange to have a meal provided for you or you may eat with my men."

"Thank you, sir," Joe replied. "We'll be heading out before daybreak, so we probably won't be back in here for supper." The Don inclined his head, dismissing them. "We'll just check on things at the stables, Mano and Buck, and talk to you later on," Joe added, as he and Pedro stood and departed, leaving Buck, Mano, and Tío Domingo alone at a very long table.

"Well, my nephew, no doubt you and Señor Cannon have matters to discuss also, so I shall leave you in peace. I will be in my study should you require anything," Domingo purred, slipping away in smooth silence like the slick gambler he was.

"Well, Mano, yore uncle done left us a-lone, but whut we gonna discuss I have no idee." Buck smiled, irritating Mano.

"Compadre, you know very well we must talk about Wind."

"Why I don't suffer from that com-plaint myse'f." Buck chuckled, amused at his own joke.

"Buck, be serious, please." Mano said through gritted teeth "We have to make a decision about that boy. How can we take him with us into the hills to look for those mustangs when he acts this way?"

"Well, S'nor Montoya, I figger it's like yore sister said: he jes needs a job. He needs to know what he's needed to do. He's gotta know his place. Why he's here."

"Ah, entiendo, we give him a job to do and he will feel wanted. Good, hombre."

"Why thank you, partner, I thought it was pretty good myself." Mano squinted at his friend, making as if to backhand him. "What you figger he could do, though, Mano? That's what we need to know," Buck continued. "It's gotta be somethin' he wants ta do."

Mano exhaled with a sigh. "Sí, that is difficult. Perhaps if we take him to Casa Cueva."

"Yeah. Mebbe them folks kin help us figger what to do with him. I mean, Victoria said he oughta come learn about the horses. Ain't nobody better to teach him than Ruiz an' Roy an' Vaquero. Don't know how ol' Roy boy or Teresa'll take to him but it's worth a try."

"Sí. Estoy de acuerdo. In the morning we take him to Casa Cueva. Tonight, Ruiz will look after him in the stables and I expect he will appreciate that more than a bed among the servants or vaqueros."

"We are gonna do that in the morning, huh? Cuz I would kinda like to sleep in a real bed tonight. I know I complain about them fine linens and fancy covers and such here at Rancho Montoya, but once in a while all that feels mighty good. Might even take me a bath." Buck's last statement provoked raised eyebrows and a nod of agreement from Mano.

"Buena idea, amigo. Buena idea."

* * *

Much later that evening, Pedro and Joe came inside the hacienda to make their goodbyes, finding Buck lying on the sofa and Mano slouched in an armchair in the salón.

"Do you have everything you need?" Mano asked.

"Yep. Pepe and Rodrigo looked after us real good," Joe replied. "Found us bunks. Already ate with the men, too."

"Sí, although we were not very hungry. We leave before dawn tomorrow. Señor Ruiz will have Diablo ready," Pedro added.

"Bueno, I shall come out to see you off then in the morning. Hey, amigos, muchas gracias for all you are doing," Mano said, reminding himself to have Pepe awaken him early. He fooled no one. These were his friends, but he also wanted to see off his horse.

"Big John'll be glad to have that stallion at the Chaparral," Joe said. "Mano, that is one fine animal."

Mano smiled. "Sí, he is magnifico. And I think Toronado will surpass him."

"Whew," Pedro whistled. "Joe, we gonna haveta be careful, amigo."

"We will. Mr. Cannon'll skin us alive if something happens to that horse. An' Mano just might, too," Joe smirked. Mano grinned, but did not disagree. He had only just returned from the stables himself to check on both Diablo and Toronado...and to see Ruiz about Wind.

"Sí, Manolito, I have given Wind some food and a job to do. Right now he is resting in the stall at the end," Ruiz had said. Mano had crept down to the stall, peeking over the door to spot the young man lying on his side, his arm pillowing his head upon the straw. Ay yi yi, Manolito. He really is a muchacho. Younger even than Blue. He is a tough one but also needs a little looking after. He just does not know it. I will not wake him. The boy needs a good night's sleep and Ruiz will watch out for him. We will collect him tomorrow when we go to Casa Cueva and then for the mustangs.

"Solamente es un muchacho, Manolito," Ruiz said. Mano nodded. Yes, he was only a boy.

* * *

Another meal in the luxurious setting of the grand dining room did nothing to put Buck off his usual method of consuming food: full of noise and without restraint. Mano smiled at his friend, glad that Buck was with him on this trip. He had spent too much time in this great rancho with his uncle by himself during the last several months and had missed the company of his gran amigo.

Another night in the luxurious setting of his spacious bedroom did nothing to help Mano drift off to sleep. He was well fed, well rested, and not at all sleepy. He ventured down the hallway, pausing before Buck's door and raising a fist to rap on it, until the snoring within prevented him. His friend would not be joining him for a cognac then. He tiptoed down the stairs. As he approached the cabinet in the corner of the salón where he knew the best brandy stayed, a voice caught him unawares.

"Nephew, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"Ay Tío! What a shock you gave me."

"Why? This is my house, is it not? I choose the hours I will keep."

"Of course, Tío, it is not that. It is just that I was not expecting anyone at all to be awake."

"You cannot sleep?"

"No. I do not know why."

"Well, in that case, I think a brandy is in order." Tío Domingo reached for a glass snifter, pouring amber liquid from a bottle into it and passing the glass to Mano, who swirled the liquid in the glass, sniffed, and sipped.

"Bueno, uncle, you have excellent taste."

"Gracias, but the taste was your father's. I am merely the custodian of the bottle now."

Uncle, a little humor from you, eh? Wonders will never cease, Mano thought.

"Shall we, nephew?" Domingo indicated the two chairs in front of the cold fireplace. Mano settled in one while his uncle took the other and larger. They sat for some time in silence, sipping their brandies, not an unusual practice for them during Mano's recent stay.

"What troubles you, Manolo?" His uncle's use of his given name threw Mano for a second.

"I'm not sure, Tío. I feel displaced. Disjointed. Neither one thing nor the other."

"Yes, many things have changed in your world over the last year or so, have they not? This happens to us all at one time or another. You will weather the storms of life rather well, I believe. You have a strong character and endurance."

"I don't know about a strong character," Mano chuckled. "Many would disagree with this."

"This may not be my place, Mano. But it seems that since your father's death, you have been always in a hurry. Rushing here, rushing there. Slow down, nephew. Enjoy life one second at a time. You cannot get it back once it has flown. That second, that minute, that hour: enjoy it."

Rushing after you, Tío, is what I have done, Mano thought. He said, "You may be surprised to learn this, Tío, but that is the way I have lived most of my life. Enjoying it. Rarely in a hurry to do anything...until recently. Now I cannot seem to slow down."

"That is a secret you will have to discover for yourself and, in time, you will," Domingo smiled as a cat might smile. "You must decide what you want out of life and what is worth a sacrifice of your time. And what is not. A fine book, a good woman...what is important to you, nephew? This determines your choices."

What do I want out of life? Papá wanted to know this, too. Mano nodded and sipped the last of his brandy. "Gracias, Tío. I shall try to savor my last night in a good bed. Good night, uncle."

"Good night, nephew!" said Domingo, blowing a perfect smoke ring as they parted. Mano edged upstairs, looking back into the darkened living room to see only the glowing tip of his uncle's cigar as it moved.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Inheritance Chapter Seven: News in Casa Cueva**

Darkness shrouded the courtyard of Hacienda Montoya except for the gleam of the gas lights which flickered, illuminating two men on horseback and a third form, a magnificent stallion. True to his word, Mano had risen early, throwing on shirt, pants, and boots to come outside and bid his friends and horse farewell.

"Nos vemos, amigos! Take care!" he called, pausing to give Diablo a pat. "You too, caballito," he whispered.

"Don't worry, Mano. We will. See you at the ranch," Joe said.

"Sí, hasta luego!" Pedro called as they urged their horses to a fast walk and headed out of the gate, leading the most valuable of stallions to his new home. Mano watched them till the blackness enveloped them, then headed inside to wait for the rancho to awaken. Only roosters up now, he thought. Maybe even too early for roosters. An hour or so later, both he and Buck, fully dressed, emerged from the hacienda to make for the stables, where they found Rebel and Macadoo saddled and waiting with Valencio Ruiz.

"Thank you, Señor Ruiz," Buck said with a tip of his hat.

"Sí, gracias, Ruiz. Where is Wind?" It was a reasonable question and one Mano wished he did not have to ask.

"I'm here," came a voice from the other end of the stable. Nothing wrong with that boy's hearing at any rate, thought Buck, who had remained in the background. He's a hard one to figger.

"Bueno. We are ready to leave then. I will take your good wishes to Vaquero and his family, my old friend. Nos vemos, eh?" Mano embraced Ruiz, who had always been like a second father to him.

"Sí, Manolito, nos vemos de verdad!" the old man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

* * *

Buck, Mano, and Wind rode out of the hacienda at a comfortable jog. No need to hurry, thought Mano. The sun has only just come up. It is not hot. Why not just enjoy this day, these minutes? Tío has a point. When did you get in such a hurry, Manolo? You know, there is something to be said for just sitting around. They rode past towering saguaros and creosote bushes with yellow blooms, finally riding under the broken arch of Casa Cueva, the tiny pueblo encircled by Montoya land. Mano shook off the last of his introspection. There was work to do and friends to be met. A dark-skinned man of about 60 years strode out of the livery stable to greet them.

"Bienvenidos a todos!"

"Vaquero, amigo, cóm' estás?" Buck jumped from his horse and pounded his friend on the back.

"Vaquero, you have not met our young friend Wind. He comes from the High Chaparral where he works for John and for us at times," Mano said. "Wind, this is Vaquero, a very old friend of ours, also from the Chaparral, and now alcalde of this village."

Wind gave Vaquero a solemn nod. Mano dismounted, a bit stiff and with only a slight grimace, but Vaquero noticed. "Your wounds still trouble you, Manolito?"

"Now and then, Vaquero. Estoy bien."

Roy Lauder ambled out next, followed by Teresa, curious about the commotion.

"Hey, Mano! Good to see you, ameego! How're you feelin' now?" Roy cried. "An' Buck, how're you doin'?"

"Howdy Roy boy. Miss Teresa?" Buck grinned and tipped his hat, accepting a kiss from Teresa.

"Roy, it is good to see you too, hombre," Mano replied, shaking the stocky younger man's hand and clapping him on the shoulder. "I am fine, really. I can see that life is treating you well. Teresa is blooming!" he grinned at the young woman. "Hola Teresa, cómo estás, chiquita? Espero bien." They exchanged kisses.

"I'm fine. Gracias, Don Mano," Teresa answered. "Won't you all come into the house? Already it is starting to get hot out here." Although nobody else had noticed an increase in temperature, the men followed Teresa into the small adobe, where she prepared coffee. Everyone except Wind settled on wooden chairs around the simple rough hewn table. Roy pulled out crates for Buck and himself, since there were only four chairs. He motioned to Wind to fetch another crate from the stack in the corner, but Wind ignored him, preferring to stand.

"Tell me, Manolito, what brings you and Buck back to Sonora again so quickly? Not that we are not glad to see you, of course," Vaquero began.

"We have decided to go out after that wild horse herd, Vaquero, to see if there are any we might use."

"Sí, the herd is not too far. Only yesterday I spotted some running in that small valley just west of here."

"Oh, sí? That is good news, amigo."

"Does that mean we might get to see 'em afore we die of old age?" Buck chuckled.

"Hey, Mano," Roy chimed in. "Did we tell ya we found us some older mares? We think we kin maybe breed 'em to Toronado."

"Roy, that is wonderful news. When?"

"After yore trouble, Mano. After Vaquero got back. We found 'em from a fam'ly Señor Ruiz told him about. Got 'em real cheap, too."

"No, Roy, I mean when will they be ready to breed?"

"Oh!" Roy grinned. "I guess that'd be purty soon, if we kin get the use of Toronado."

"Oh, I think that can be arranged, hombre," Mano smiled. "Eh, Buck, good news, yes?"

"It shore is. Hey Roy, mebbe you could show Wind here some o' them new mares and let him get a look-see, what kind they is, an' such." Buck ran out of steam, but Roy picked up where Buck left off.

"Sure thing. C'mon, Wind, this way." Roy and Wind headed for the corrals out back. Only Mano noticed the sideways glance Roy shot him when Buck suggested he take Wind outside. Well, Roy would have to get used to the Pawnee boy.

"Vaquero, did you have enough to cover the cost of the mares?"

"Sí, Mano, with what you left us before…"

"Yes, before, my, ah, trouble, eh? Hey, did you know that it was Lobo after me?"

"So I had heard, Manolito. And he is in Yuma now?"

"Yes. Oh, and I meant to tell Roy. Do you also know that Papá left me both Diablo and Toronado? No breeding fees. They are ours to use," Mano explained with a grin.

"No es verdad? That is very good, Manolito," Vaquero smiled. "Very good, indeed."

"Yep. S'nor Montoya here is a real hidalgo now," Buck added with a smirk. "An Diablo's goin' to the Chaparral, so Big John's purty happy about that, too."

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Inheritance Chapter Eight: Roy and Wind**

Steam shimmers radiated from the warming earth as Wind followed Roy to the corrals outside the livery. "Here we are, Wind," Roy said with forced cheerfulness "This here's the new mares." He waved his arm toward the largest corral where there were half a dozen mares, resting, eating, drinking, just being horses.

"The paint is a nice mare." Wind observed, surprising Roy.

"She sure is. She's the best of 'em I reckon."

"Have you ridden her?"

"I have. I was plumb surprised at how nice she rode, too. She's got a real smooth gait, especially her lope. It's like sitting in a rockin' chair."

"She is built well. Her shoulder slopes perfectly and her hindquarters are strong and sit straight. Her legs are good, plenty of bone."

Roy's jaw dropped and he gawked at Wind. I remember this fella from Mano an' Buck's ranch but I ain't had no idea he knew so much about horses. "Watch this," Roy said.

Roy grabbed a headcollar and lead rope, then dropped himself over the fence into the corral and whistled. All the mares looked up. Then Roy, using his right arm, swung the headcollar out to the side and back toward himself as if to encourage the mares to come toward him. All seemed to know it was the horse on the end at the right that he wanted. The paint mare lifted her head, her ears twisting in his direction. She walked to him with a deliberate gait, in no hurry and with no fear.

Wind said nothing, but the slight elevation of his eyebrows showed he was impressed. This white boy has a good touch with these creatures, he thought.

"Here girl, that's my girl," Roy whispered. "Now you stand still while I fit this ol' headcollar on and fix the lead rope, and then you can follow me, okay?" The mare's ears moved and she dropped her head into Roy's hands so he could slip on the headcollar and attach the rope. "C'mon, girl." Roy led her to the gate, lifted the latch and opened it just enough for them both to go through. She moved around and behind him as if of her own volition, but Wind noticed Roy's subtle use of body and hands, giving the mare cues to read. Roy fastened the gate and led the mare into the shade of the stables. "Let's go, girl. In here." He opened an empty stall and led her in. Wind followed, curious.

In the stall, Roy removed the headcollar and lead rope in one smooth move, not even seeming to touch the mare's head. She stayed still until he slipped his hand up her neck and whispered into her ear, "That's my girl. You can move over now." Then she walked to the side of the stall to a floor manger with a little grain left in it, which she began to eat.

"She is a beautiful horse, Roy. Does she have a name?"

"Her name's Viento." Roy said, sheepish. "That means…"

"A good name… for a horse."

Roy glanced at Wind. Was that a joke he jus made? He ain't smilin'. I ain't gonna smile neither, Roy decided. But he did wonder about the quiet young Indian. Maybe he'd got him wrong. Maybe he wasn't sneaky like all them other Indians. Not that Roy know'd many Indians. But his friend Honch allus said they was sneaky.

"Roy, Wind, did you not want any coffee? I am about to serve some," Teresa announced as she slipped into the barn.

"Teresa, honey, I shore would. I was just showing Wind here this purty Viento. Your favorite, ain't she?"

"Sí, she is the most perfect mover and I think will throw excellent foals. But we have many good mares that you can see in our corral," Teresa snipped, her tone now testy. Her face flushed, she moved outside to the rail and leaned on it, watching the mares, pushing sweat soaked hair out of her eyes.

* * *

Roy and Wind followed her, flanking her at the fence and also regarding the horses. Wind glanced sideways at Teresa, and Roy was startled to hear him ask, "When will your child come?"

Teresa turned scarlet and her breath caught. She glared at Wind. Roy's mouth fell open.

"You are going to have a young one, aren't you?" Wind continued. "You have the appearance of being with young."

"I..I..I think so." Teresa finally managed, shocked and red-faced. "How do _you_ know this?" she demanded.

"You're gonna have a baby?!" Roy's voice squeaked.

"I think so, beloved. But I am not sure. I am sick in the mornings and I feel hot sometimes even at night," she stammered.

"It will be a girl," Wind pronounced as if no other possibility existed.

"A girl? I don't care whut it is! Teresa, baby...we're gonna have a baby!" Roy cried. He grabbed his wife and swung her around, lifting her off the ground. "Whoo-wee!" he yelled. "I'm gonna be a daddy!"

Teresa squealed, from both fear and delight. "You _are_ a papá. I was waiting to tell you until I was sure, but I am pretty sure now. I hoped you'd be happy."

"Happy?" Realizing that he was squeezing her and she was two feet off the ground, Roy lowered her to the floor, keeping his arms around her to steady her. He kissed her and looked at her in the eyes. "Oh Teresa, I'm happier than I've ever been before. Now c'mon, let's us sit down. You don't need to be on your feet."

"Roy, there is no reason for me to sit down. I am with child. I do not have a disease," she retorted. "Do not treat me as a sick person."

"Okay, Teresa, whatever you say," Roy grinned and nodded, hugging her again. The two beamed at each other. Wind began to feel out of place, so he went back in the house.

"What is all the noise about, Wind?" Vaquero asked.

"Teresa is expecting a child. I think Roy is happy."

"A baby?" and Buck let out the loudest rebel yell heard since Fredericksburg.

"Un niño?" Mano's face dimpled and his teeth gleamed. The faintest hint of a smile crossed Vaquero's face and his eyes twinkled.

"I think it will be a girl," Wind said.

"How'd you know that?" Buck asked his brow wrinkled and his eyebrows straight down over his eyes.

"She was saying she was hot. It was not hot outside. She was holding her stomach when she thought nobody saw. She turned a strange color when preparing things at the stove. All these signs told me she was going to give birth. I think it will be a girl, because often girls cause early problems for the mothers."

"Huh?"

"Compadres, shall we go outside and add our congratulations to those of the proud father?" Mano asked with a grin.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Inheritance Chapter Nine: Wild Horses**

Mano and Buck stood in silence in the evening cool outside the home of Vaquero. A gentle breeze wafted from the north, refreshing both men as they leaned against a corral fence and watched the new mares. "Buck," Mano broke the stillness. "We have to talk about Wind, hombre."

"I know it. We gotta give that boy a job. I been thinkin', Mano. Wind tracks purty near as good as me or you, don't he?"

"Sí. Who knows? Perhaps better."

"Well, what if we was to ask him to track them mustangs for us, scout out a good place for us to camp nearby, and see what he thinks about the quality o' them horses?"

"That could work, amigo," Mano nodded, pensive. "If he believes we need his skills and that we value his opinion perhaps, and just perhaps, he will feel more like being part of our, cómo se dice, crew, no es verdad?"

"Yeah, Mano, that be it. He be on our crew! Aw right!" Buck chuckled.

"Compadre, ssshhh, here he comes." Mano whispered between clenched teeth.

"Hey, Wind boy, how's it goin?" Buck's voice was a little too hearty and Wind flinched.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Buck."

"Eh, Wind, Buck and I have been talking and we have been wondering about the wild horse herd." Mano paused, checking Wind's expression for reaction. The boy remained stoic, his face unreadable, so Mano continued talking fast, too fast and too much. "You are an excellent tracker and can spot good places to camp. We also believe you know how to recognize good horses. We would like to ask you to scout the trail for us, to find and lead us to the horse herd. If you can take a look at them and see if you think any would be worth our while to catch. that, too, would be good. What do you say, Wind. Will you do this thing?"

"Yes, I'll do it. When do you want to leave?"

"Oh, first light I'd say, right Mano?" Buck said.

"Sí. First light."

Wind nodded his head and made off towards the stables. Buck and Mano looked at each other and let out their collective breaths, both unaware that they had been holding them until now.

"You know, Buck, we can just as well track those horses ourselves."

"I know it. But he don't."

Ay, Bendita, this is going to be a very interesting trip, thought Mano.

* * *

Dawn bathed the pueblo in a rosy hue as Buck, then Mano, emerged from Vaquero's adobe to find Wind already waiting. The horses were saddled and a pack horse loaded with supplies. They exchanged nods of greeting, and then, without a word, mounted and rode out of Casa Cueva beneath the broken arch along the northern trail.

At dinner the evening before, around Vaquero's table, they had discussed tactics and what they would need to take with them. Mano had assumed Wind was not listening. He was wrong. With an early start in mind, they bid goodbye to Vaquero, Roy, and Teresa before turning in.

That morning, Wind left the pack horse to be led by Buck or Mano and Mano, being closest, lifted the lead rope and took charge of the animal, well aware this would mean Wind could ride off ahead of them. They would only see him when he wanted to be seen. Buck gave a lopsided grin and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head as Wind rode ahead, soon out of sight.

Toward mid-morning Wind reappeared and raised his hand for them to stop, which they did. "I've found the herd. It's in two groups. One full of youngsters and the other mostly older mares and a strong stallion. There is a good place to camp up ahead, and I think we should settle in there and use it as a base."

"Good thinking, Wind, thank you," Mano said, although he knew very well the campsite Wind had selected. This was Montoya land, after all, land that Mano had roamed his entire life.

Mano guided the pack horse behind the young Pawnee as Buck brought up the rear. Soon, they entered a small clearing with a large rocky outcrop at one edge. They could hear the running water of a small stream just beyond. A few scrub oak and mesquite trees crowding the bank meant shade for horses and men.

Wind turned his mount sideways to them and said, "Over there is a box canyon, quite short, with a narrow entrance. If we don't fill it with too many horses it would be a good place to capture them. There is a tree, almost downed, struck by lightning from the look of it, just at the entrance. Wouldn't take much to finish what the lightning started and force that tree across the canyon mouth to pen 'em up." He spun his horse and made for the shade trees.

Mano and Buck exchanged surprised looks but, saying nothing, followed Wind to the trees to begin setting up the camp. Just who is in charge of this expedition? Mano wondered. Certainly not Buck or myself. He knew the box canyon. The boy had chosen well. His instincts were good.

The sun high overhead signaled noon. The camp settled, Mano built a fire and, removing a coffee pot and skillet from the pack, threw on a little bacon to sizzle. He next added cooked pinto beans from a jar, sprinkling in comino, ground dried chili peppers, and red pepper, also from the pack. Pepe had given him these supplies from the Montoya kitchens, along with flour tortillas, which Mano set on a tin plate at the edge of the fire to warm while the beans heated. He fetched water from the spring and brewed coffee, too. Soon, they all sat around the fire, each with a tortilla stuffed with beans and a cup of coffee. No one spoke. This silence is getting on my nerves, Mano thought. After finishing his food and taking a long sip of coffee, he spoke to the boy: "Did you take a good look at the mares and stallion, Wind? Do you think they are any good?"

"Some of them are, sure. The stallion looks to be young but well muscled. He has a good collection of mares. The herd is not large, but the horses all seem in good condition."

"Ah, bueno. We can perhaps corral them in the canyon and select the best to take back to Casa Cueva. Do you think we could use the stallion? Is he fine enough for our breeding stock?"

"Yes, I think so, but you'll have to decide that for yourselves, of course." Wind placed the last bit of tortilla in his mouth, got up and walked off toward the picket line and the horses.

"Well, Mano, whut you think?" Buck rasped.

Mano's eyebrows knit together and he whispered, "About what?"

"Huh? Bout Wind. Whut you think I was asking about?" Buck's voice got louder in the middle of this reply and he had to force his tone lower.

"I don't know, hombre. Does he want to work with us? Is he working for us? Only questions, Buck." Mano sighed, tossed the remains of his coffee on the fire, stood, stretched, and walked over to cinch up Macadoo.

"I'll kick the fire out, Mano," Buck said as he shoved dirt over the embers, then moved to cinch up Rebel. "Here, Ol' Sally," he said as he jerked on the pack horse's tether to be sure she was tied tight to the picket line. He stowed the pack in the tree. The three mounted up and rode out in search of wild horses.

* * *

Not five hundred yards away, Wind pulled up his mount. "This is the entrance to the canyon." he announced, as if they were in front of El Toro Loco in Tucson.

Mano saw a young live oak, rooted on one side of the canyon's mouth, its limbs curling and gnarled and thick with leaves, a great black slice near the base where it had been struck by lightning, The trunk was damaged, more than halfway split in two from a vertical strike that bled out along the horizontal. With a little choppin', we might jest get that tree to where it'd fall across the canyon entrance an' seal it up, Buck thought. Just take a little work now an' man-ooverin' later."Tha's a good find, Wind," Buck said.

The Indian said nothing, but he sat taller and inched his rifle higher on his chest. They dismounted to take a closer look. Split tree was young, Buck reflected. We kin finish bustin' it in two later if we do some work now. Problem is we gonna haveta finish the job after we drive the horses into the canyon an' not before. This ain't gonna be no picnic, Mano still hurting with his ribs an chest an' all. That boy Wind don't appear to have much muscle. Gonna be up to me, I guess. He sighed. "Let's see how heavy it is," Buck said, walking toward the tree and shoving on it, inspecting it. "Yessir, I think we can chop some more off now; then when the horses is in the canyon, we kin finish the job with a hatchet or even by jumpin' on the trunk. Gotta be careful when she falls though."

"Bueno, when the tree falls, it will block the entrance. Later we can use our horses and ropes to move the tree and open the gate," Mano mused aloud. "The foliage should prevent the horses from escaping."

"I believe this'll work. Timin' will be ever-thing though."

"Let me work on the trunk," said Wind, "If I can notch the trunk some more, it should fall without too much effort."

"Sí, you do that and I will tie a rope around the trunk and secure it to the rocks or perhaps that tree behind, to hold it in place so that it does not fall before we are ready," Mano added.

"Good idea, ameego," Buck affirmed.

The three set to work on the tree. Buck and Wind notched the damaged trunk with swift yet careful blows from their hatchets. Mano retrieved a coil of rope from his horse and looped it around the portion of the trunk above the notch; he and Buck secured the other end to a straight tree some yards back. The trap set, the men remounted and set off, Wind in the lead.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Inheritance Chapter Ten: Pride Goeth**

In late afternoon, as the yellow sun burned hot in a cobalt blue sky, they picked their way into a brushy arroyo where at last they heard—rather than saw—the horses. A shrill neigh cut through the air. Their own mounts reared as the thundering hoofbeats of fifteen or twenty mustangs assailed the men's ears. The herd burst out of the undergrowth, making straight for them. Mano, furthest back, forced Macadoo to the side of the arroyo as the mustangs crashed by. Wind turned his horse and kicked him to a full gallop to avoid the stampede. But where was Buck? Through the dust, Mano and Wind peered back in relief to see a figure on horseback.

Cannon had ridden ahead of Wind as they entered the arroyo, meeting the full force of the wild horse herd head on. In the face of the onslaught, Buck had no choice but to turn Rebel to run with them, allowing as many as he could to gallop past him. The stragglers of the herd rushed by, Buck and Rebel mixed in the last group, Buck managing to stay astride Rebel. But when he tried to turn the horse again, the angle proved too sharp and Rebel reared up as the last of the mustangs galloped past. Buck slid out of the saddle in what seemed like slow motion and landed with a thud on the rocky ground. A string of curses followed as Rebel trotted off. Mano, eyes wide as he witnessed the fall, jumped off Mac and ran to see what had happened to his friend. Wind caught Rebel and rode up just as Mano reached Buck.

"Of all the consarned, stupidest things… blamed horse… blasted broncs…" Buck fumed, spitting and hollering expletives while still seated.

"Buck, are you all right, compadre?" Mano cried, breathless, his lungs knifed by a searing pain as he ran.

"I think so, Mano, I think so. I guess I just hurt my... _pride_ ," Buck muttered as he struggled to lever himself upright. "Oooh, that do ache!" He grimaced and sank back down with a groan. He could not move. More than his pride had suffered injury. Wind had dismounted and taken all the horses to one side, hitching them to a mesquite bush for want of a better picket line. Mano knelt beside Buck, put his arm around his friend's shoulder, and hoisted him upright. Buck cursed and grimaced with every movement.

"Oh that do hurt, Mano. That do hurt somep'n fierce!"

"Where, Buck? What hurts?"

"My tailbone, amigo, my tailbone. An' my back. Oh my, my, my, that is awful painful."

"Can you walk, amigo?"

"Yeah, I kin walk. My back ain't broke, if that's what yore thinkin'. But mah…"

"I don't think Buck is going to be able to ride, Mano," Wind interrupted.

"No, es verdad. You are right, Wind. He cannot ride in this condition.. unless we can make him...a cushion." Mano started to chuckle. Buck glared at him. "I am sorry, hombre, but now that I know you are all right...when you started to fall, amigo, you were so graceful, like a ballet dancer..." Mano's chuckle grew louder.

Wind said nothing, just looked on, forcing himself to remain stoic, his mouth twitching just a bit.

"Hombre, when you sailed out of the back door of your saddle and landed in the dirt..." Mano's laughter became full blown. "I...I had never seen…" he motioned for Wind to come over and lend a hand, because his own ribs were starting to ache from laughter and he found himself doubling over in mirth.

Wind took hold of Buck around the shoulders as Mano had done. Buck could feel him shaking. A sideways glance into Wind's face revealed the boy's eyes crinkled and his mouth pinched tight trying to hold back his own laughter, which suddenly erupted.

Then Buck snickered and started laughing, too. "Yeah, boys, it musta bin a funny sight, me sailin' off back'ards and Reb rearing off front'ards." All three laughed till tears ran down their faces, Mano holding his ribs and Wind holding up Buck as best he could. At last, the laughter died down.

"Well, where are we gonna find me some padding so my 'pride' can have a little protection? Hey, Mano, whyn't you give me yore shirt? That's soft material, amigo!"

"My shirt! Estás loco, Buck? No. Nunca, nunca en mi vida," Mano replied.

"I don't know what yore sayin' but I'm guessin' it's a no," Buck grimaced.

"What's wrong with your own shirt, Buck?" Mano asked.

"But I ain't got but one shirt, Mano. You know that!"

"Well I 'ain't' lending you mine, entiendes?" Mano replied through a tight mouth and clenched teeth.

"You wouldn't gimme the shirt off yore back?"

"Sí, to wear. But not in this case, compadre."

"Would these be any good?" Wind asked as he walked up, saddlebags slung across his arm, holding some woollen items aloft.

"Perfecto!" exclaimed Mano.

"Them's my socks!" cried Buck, dismayed. "They's purty dirty."

"Unbutton your pants," Mano commanded.

"Whut?"

"I said, unbutton your pants, hombre."

Buck complied, forehead crinkled, puzzled. Mano seized the socks, pulled out the back of Buck's pants, and started stuffing socks inside.

"Stay outta my long johns, you hear?" Buck demanded.

"Do not worry, amigo."

Wind and Mano then helped Buck, with his makeshift cushion of socks, into his saddle and the three set off at a gentle walk to make camp before the night was gone. Once there, Wind took care of the horses while Mano spread out Buck's bedroll and helped his friend settle down, groaning, socks pillowing his injured "pride."

* * *

"Mano, I feel like I've been drug acrost the desert by an Apach," Buck moaned the next morning. "Ain't no way I kin ride."

"I don't like to say this or think about it, Buck, but that backside of yours needs to go soak in that stream a little, compadre," Mano said, grimacing as Wind's eyes widened. "Let me help you."

Mano hoisted Buck's arm over his shoulders and the two edged to the water where Buck pulled off his boots with Mano's help, then dropped his pants and long johns, stepping out of them and sinking into the stream. He held onto a rocky ledge and let the cool wetness wash over him. "Ooooh, oncet ya get down here, this feels pretty good," Buck groaned, but it was tough going down and his cracked tailbone ached.

"Let me have a look."

"What?"

"Let me look, compadre, to make sure your skin is not torn. Trust me, this is the last thing I want to do," Mano said with a wry smile as he stepped into the water and peered down. "Ah, bruises, a couple of scrapes, not bad. When you get up, you can put some of the aloe vera salve Vaquero gave us on your back."

"He give us that fer you, didn't he?"

"Sí. We two are in bad shape, eh? It will feel good, hombre. But you are going to have to do it yourself. This I will not do for you. It's bad enough I have had to pick up those socks of yours. Do you never think of washing them?"

"Oh, I think about it, Mano. I think about it ever time I reach in them saddlebags."

"Let's go, amigo," Mano said, offering a hand and hoisting his friend upright.

"Hang on a minute, pardner," Buck said. "Jes hep me into my drawers an britches an' boots, if you don't mind, S'nor Montoya." Mano's grimace showed he did mind, but he helped Buck anyway, and the two hobbled back up to the fireside where Wind waited, holding an extra pair of long johns he had retrieved from Buck's saddlebag.

"Give me the socks and we can stuff them in these like a pillow," Wind said. "If you don't button your pants, we can put this pillow inside the back of them."

"Well, ain't that nice?" Buck groused. "Guess I kin keep my shirttail out an hide all that."

"That, compadre, is a very good idea," said Mano, handing him the jar of aloe vera. "This first, amigo." He paused, then added, "You know Buck, you cannot ride."

"Yup. Don't know if I can even hep bust that tree the rest of the way so you an' Wind can use the corral we set up. I guess I kin try. I just hope I kin keep my britches up."

"We all hope that, compadre."

"If we wait too long, Mano," Wind spoke up, "those horses will be gone. The grazing is poor here anyway and they're only staying for the water."

"Well, then we go after them and get them today, if we can." Mano pronounced with a confidence he did not feel. "The stallion will not let any harm come to his mares. We must lead them into the canyon so that he follows."

They drank coffee and ate tortillas and bacon that Wind had prepared while Mano had been tending to Buck. Mano and Wind mounted up after breakfast while Buck began to trudge the long 500 yards to the canyon, limping and cursing each step of the way.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Inheritance Chapter Eleven: Corralling the Herd**

Just before noon Mano and Wind saw their chance. Seven mares had walked to the edge of the water, several hundred yards upstream and upwind of their camp. Wind neared the horses and dismounted, leaving his mount a few paces back. The boy sank to his belly, edging down one side of the stream in silence. When he got within a couple of feet of the nearest mare, an older sorrel with a wide white blaze, he slid a rope loop over her head while her nose was still in the water. She reared back and moved away, in the direction of Wind's horse. Wind went with her, jumping on his horse as she passed him. Mano waited further out, astride Macadoo. He turned the mares who trotted after their leader, now semi-controlled by Wind's rope wound around his saddle horn.

"Vamonos, to the canyon, eh?" Mano said with a grin as together he and Wind drove the mares. They could hear the stallion whinnying behind them. Close. Too close. They kicked their mounts faster.

"Andale, Wind! He's gaining on us!" yelled Mano over the noise of the now thundering hooves.

Wind kicked his horse faster. The lead mare let out an ear-splitting whinny of fear just at that moment. Her cry was answered by the stallion behind them, nearer than they had expected, but the mouth of the canyon yawned in front of them. Wind slipped the rope off the lead mare's neck and herded her and her friends into the box canyon.

Buck, already at the notched tree trunk, watched them pass. Mano an' Wind'll turn an' hold their horses jest inside the canyon mouth, he figured. They'll wait on that stallion. Whooo. Lookee there. Here he come. Tha's some horse. My, my, my!

Just then a magnificent sable stallion with a white sock on his off hind foot and a star shaped whorl on his forehead galloped into the box canyon in search of his mares. Mano and Wind bolted out and sprang from their horses outside the canyon entrance: Wind with all the energy of youth, adrenaline compensating for any injuries which might have slowed Mano. "Andale!" Mano cried.

The boy ran over to help Buck. Both men chopped with the pair of hatchets they had buried in the trunk the day before. Mano clambered up behind them and cut the rope holding the tree, which began to topple. While Buck continued whacking with the hatchet, Wind leaped up and out on the tree above the notch, his momentum at last breaking the trunk. Crack! Wind jumped clear as the trunk split and the tree fell across the mouth of the canyon just as the stallion returned to lead his mares out of the trap, Too late! The stallion reared in anger. The foliage from the tree blocked his way. He had no room to make a run or try to jump out.

"Juy, juy!" Mano cried while the other two whooped and cheered.

"Well now we got 'em, what're we gonna do with 'em?" Buck asked after the shouting diminished. Mano slitted his eyes at his friend.

"Let's let 'em settle down a bit," Wind spoke up. "I'll go into the canyon later on with some water and see if I can tell which ones are good and which not. It may be that we only want the stallion, or there may be two or three mares or more that would make good stock for us. Some of the mares may already be in foal to the stallion."

Mano rolled his tongue in his cheek and gave a wry grin, pleased as he noticed Wind's use of the words "we" and "us." He spoke: "Good thinking, amigo. If we leave them without water the rest of today and only take some in early this evening, they will be much less wary and easier to check. How are you planning to get in there?"

"The tree is young. I think I can push my way in just by knocking aside some branches. There ought to be enough room to squeeze underneath quietly without upsetting the stallion."

"Yup," Buck said, impressed. "Mighty good thing you did, boy, jumpin' out on that trunk. We might not have got the tree down in time." This young'un was shore beginning to be useful.

* * *

They walked back to camp, Mano and Wind leading their horses. Coffee and leftover food came as welcome relief to the tired and hungry men. They sat and ate without speaking. but now the silence was companionable. Wind sat close to them, not at the edge of camp or rushing to finish so he could leave. As they all enjoyed a second cup of coffee, Wind even opened the conversation.

"Mano, do you think the stallion will have calmed down enough before dusk so that I can get into the canyon and look at those mares?"

Mano did not show his surprise at being asked a question by Wind. Instead he paused, contemplating, then answered. "The stallion was pretty stirred up when we shut him in there, so I am not sure, Wind. Perhaps two of us should go in, eh? Safety in numbers?"

"I'd welcome the help."

Mano's eyebrows rose, but Buck's rose higher. This young'un was startin' to be one surprise after another. We'll have to see how he turns out, but right now he's growin' on me, thought Buck.

"Better to go quietly, eh Wind? No sense alerting the horses with the sound of hooves. Shall we walk to the canyon?" Mano asked as they filled two canteens and set off before dusk, leaving Buck, feeling better but still hurting, propped against his homemade pillow.

"You boys watch out, now. I ain't up to rescuin' you," Buck called after them. "Wish I could go along."

"We'll be all right, Buck. Just rest up, compadre," Mano said as he and Wind left.

Wind, puzzled, frowned as he walked beside Mano. In his moccasins, Wind walked without noise, but Mano surprised him with his silent progress. Wind noticed the caballero wore low heeled boots and no spurs, unlike the Cannon hands, and did not walk like a typical white man or Mexican. He kept away from loose branches and rocks, sticking to the softer sand of the washes. When they got within a few yards of the canyon entrance, they slowed even more. Wind moved to go under the tree first, when Mano laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder.

"Not alone, amigo. We both go in. Then we are ready for trouble if it comes, entiendes?" Wind nodded and they slipped through the curtain of foliage together.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	12. Chapter 12

**The Inheritance Chapter Twelve: Osito**

Each held back the branches for the other as they entered the canyon in silence. They paused to let their eyes adjust to the gathering gloom. High canyon walls blocked out much light but their vision returned after a few seconds.

"Wind, if you will, stay on that side," Mano whispered, gesturing to his left. "And I will stay over here. We can walk along until we reach them. I think they will all be together. Let us go with as little noise as possible." Wind nodded mute assent, moving to the left edge of the canyon wall.

About 50 paces in, Wind spotted the horses on his side of the canyon. He lifted his arm and hissed in Mano's direction. The caballero, expecting the signal, nodded in agreement while he picked his way across the canyon floor with stealth toward Wind's position. From his jacket pocket, Mano took a large kerchief which he held in his hands while dampening it with a small amount of water from his canteen. Wind's eyebrows rose in a question. "An old trick, amigo, a very old trick," Mano explained in a whisper.

They edged closer to the herd, watching the horses for signs of alarm. The stallion, between them and the mares, whickered and turned in their direction. Mano started to sing in a very low, very soft voice the song about chickens that Wind often heard him sing. What a chicken would have to do with the business here, Wind could not imagine. As Mano, with small steps, drew nearer the stallion, he extended his hand holding the kerchief and allowed the smell of the wet cloth to waft toward the horse's nose. I think I'll call you Osito, you dark coated young bear, he thought. Yes, Osito suits you very well. Here, smell, caballito. What do you think? Will I hurt you? Caballito I would never hurt you, trust me. All this Mano thought. He said nothing and made as little noise as possible. Wind edged along behind.

The horse turned his body a little more toward the approaching humans, his head up and his ears pricked in their direction. His nose twitched and his lips lifted, revealing large white teeth. Then both ears swung forward together in Mano's direction. Mano stopped. The horse took a step or two before stopping and sniffing the air again. Mano's hand, with the wet kerchief, was within a long reach of the horse's nose, when Wind took a step closer to Mano. The stallion detected movement from the corner of his eye. Panicked, the horse whinnied and reared. Mano grabbed Wind and threw both the boy and himself sideways into the brush covering the canyon wall. Crashing hooves smashed to the ground just inches from Mano's head.

"Ay yi yi! That was close, hombre!" Mano breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mano! Are you okay? You saved us both."

"Estoy bien, creo," he groaned. "Yes, okay, I think. My ribs and chest hurt. I was not planning to throw myself around like this, amigo."

"What did I do? I moved quietly."

"Wind, the horse is a creature of flight or fight. If he feels threatened, he runs away. But if he cannot run away, then he must fight. His own space is all he has and he must protect that territory. If you invade that space he will defend himself. You just got too close."

"But he was near you and didn't run away or fight."

"That was because he was making the moves, not I. He decided how near he wanted to be. I had stopped approaching him and he was moving toward me, curious about my kerchief."

"Why was he so curious?"

"Compadre, could we move a little? Although this conversation is most stimulating, I need to sit up. Ayudame, por favor."

"Sorry, I didn't think." Wind helped Mano, groaning, to his feet and the two found a nearby boulder to lean against.

"Gracias. Now let's see if I still have my kerchief." Mano retrieved the item from a few feet away and brushed off most of the dirt. "Bueno. It is a little the worse for the wear, but it will do."

"Do what, Mano? That's what I don't understand."

"This is no ordinary kerchief, Wind. This is a magical kerchief given to me by an old Mexican man, very wise about horses."

"You mean you got it from Ruiz." Wind even smiled.

Mano chuckled. "You learn quickly, compadre. Ruiz gave me this kerchief, but he also gave me something else." Mano produced a small paper bag from his jacket pocket, allowing Wind to peek inside.

"Sugar?"

"Sí. If you add a little sugar into the middle of the kerchief and then add water, you get a very sweet drink that horses cannot resist."

"Oh, so he could smell the sugar and wanted to come taste it?"

"Yes, that was the trick I was trying. I wanted him to come and drink from my hand. This way he knows I am no threat, and also that I have something good and sweet, something that he likes. In this way, he may come back to me another time, but he certainly will not fear me."

"Oh, so we could get close to his mares, and he would allow it, because you had given him the treat?"

"That was the idea, but I think, amigo, we are going to have to work a bit harder to convince him that we are no threat now, no es verdad?"

Wind nodded with a solemn expression, which touched Mano.

"It is okay, Wind, really, hombre. He will only be upset for a short while. We can approach him again, but this time you had better stay right by my side the whole time, entiendes?" Mano grinned as they started off along the canyon floor in the direction the horses had taken.

As it was a box canyon and quite short, they had only to walk for few minutes before coming upon the animals, once again in a close-knit group. Osito heard them, pivoting on one back leg to face them, a sharp movement as quick and clean as the best cutting horse either of them had ever seen. "Chihuahua!" exclaimed Mano, whistling.

Impressive as this stallion was, he was still young. The horse remembered the tempting sweet smell and he wanted to know how it tasted. Mano walked one slow pace at a time, with Wind close beside him, matching his movements. They were wary and the horse was wary, but still they edged closer, at last stopping while the horse walked to within a long neck stretch of Mano. In his hand, Mano held the sweetened wet kerchief. He stretched out his arm and hand, the kerchief flattened across his open palm.

Osito smelled that smell again. Sweet. He stretched his nose down and inhaled. Ah, it was good. His lips touched the wet material. Water! He was thirsty. He sucked some of the cloth inside his mouth and the taste made him whimper. Mano's smile gleamed in the darkening canyon. He edged one step closer to Osito's head. The horse's nostrils flared but he did not move. Mano stepped nearer still. Wind matched him with care. The young stallion's ears swiveled, but still he held his ground. Mano was now close enough to reach a hand up beside Osito's head and onto his neck, beneath his long thick black mane. Mano laid a palm on the horse's coat and commenced a smooth slow stroke, all the time humming "La Gallina," that peculiar tune that perplexed Wind. The horse did not seem to mind.

"Wind, make a cup with your hands and let me pour a little water from my canteen into your palms." Wind cupped his hands together and Mano reached for the canteen which dangled behind his back from the strap he had fitted over his shoulder and across his chest. Wind had done the same or they might have lost their water in their leap to safety.

Wind held his cupped hands next to the stallion's nose as Mano poured the water in a small trickle so that it overflowed a bit and dripped onto the ground. The horse's ears swiveled in that direction and he turned his head. When he saw and smelled the water his head dropped into Wind's hands and he sucked it all up. Now that the men seemed to be no threat and had something Osito wanted, he let them walk past him while he tried to suck the moisture from the canyon floor. He found Mano's abandoned kerchief and that proved good for at least two or three more sucks, which he did.

With slow, steady, quiet movements the two men walked among the mares. When they approached each, they took turns offering swallows of water from their cupped hands. The one offering water did only that, but the other man could look and even run a hand over each horse's neck. In this way they passed among all eight animals, making sure all had received a swallow of water. Then they retreated. Osito followed on their heels, and as they neared the foliage gate, Mano turned and gouged a small hollow in the canyon floor with his boot heel. Into this small well, he poured the remainder of his sugar, not much, and the last of the water. Osito, as the stallion, dropped his head first to drink, but after he had taken a good swallow, the boldest mare, the sorrel with the white blaze face, took her turn. While the horses were occupied with drinking, the two men turned and slid back through the tree branches the way they had entered.

"Mano, I cannot believe what just happened!" Wind exclaimed, his face animated and happy. Mano could not remember the boy showing such emotion before. "Those horses are all good," Wind continued. "The older mare, the sorrel, she's in foal and I think that pretty little bay mare. too."

Mano laughed. "Sí, amigo. They are all good and tomorrow they will be ours for the taking...if our friend Buck is ready to ride. Otherwise we may need to think about how we can take our little herd of mustangs back to Casa Cueva." They walked the rest of the way in silence, pondering the problem.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	13. Chapter 13

**The Inheritance Chapter Thirteen: Return to Casa Cueva**

They could smell the coffee before they reached camp.

"Oh no!" said Mano. "Buck has made the coffee. This cannot be good." Wind glanced at him yet said nothing.

Weary, they approached the fire and found Buck reclining on his side, weight on a hip, his shoulder and back resting against a saddle, pants unbuttoned and his backside three times its normal size.

"Buck, are you okay, amigo?" Mano inquired.

"Oh, I'm fine, amigo, jes a bit tender in the day-ree-air." He waved an arm behind him.

"Has it got worse, compadre? It seems more swollen than when we left."

"Oh, no, no. It ain't no worse. It's fine. Sit yourselves down and have a cup of coffee. I made it." Buck spoke too fast, his smile too wide. Mano smelled a rat and spotted a piece of light colored cloth poking out of the back of Buck's pants.

"Oh no. What is this? My dress shirt? Ay Bendita! Buck, para esa mentira, hombre!" Mano roared.

"Now Mano, you ain't using it an' it'll wash jes fine. Don't go gittin' all het up! I borrowed your socks, too. I needed more paddin'."

"Buck!" But Mano could see it was no use. The shirt was now firmly packed down into Buck's cushion. What was the point? So he sank to his saddle and reached for a cup to pour himself some coffee. Wind moved to the coffee pot first and poured them both a cup, offering Buck one as well. "Gracias," Mano replied, sipping the bitter liquid. This tastes like tar, he grimaced, swallowing, then throwing the rest onto the desert floor, away from the fire. He groaned, rose, leaned down to pick up the coffee pot, trudged down to the stream, poured the hot liquid into the dirt, and refilled the pot with fresh water. He walked back to their pack supplies, withdrew the burlap bag of coffee grounds and added the proper amount to the pot, replacing it on the flat stone in the fire to brew.

Wind took a small sip of his coffee and without a word, strode down to the stream to throw away his cupful and rinse out the dregs. Buck lay there, grinning at them both. He slurped his coffee and tried not to frown. It was purty thick. When the fresh coffee smelled ready, Mano helped Wind to a cup and then poured one for himself. Without looking at Buck, he held out his hand toward his friend, waiting for Buck's cup, which the older man handed him. Mano tossed out the remains and refilled Buck's cup with fresh coffee.

"Ay, compadre, why do you not just leave the coffee making to me?" Mano asked while Buck snickered and Wind smiled. Mano sighed, sipped his coffee, and rested on the saddle, closing his eyes for a minute.

After they had refreshed themselves a little, Buck opened, "Well ain't you two blabbermouths ever gonna tell me 'bout those horses?"

"Horses?" Mano asked, guileless and innocent.

"Horses?" Wind echoed, his voice deadpan.

"Yeah, the horses," Buck insisted. Wind's smile was almost as wide as Mano's. Buck scowled his frustration.

"Oh, the horses," Mano could no longer contain his pleasure. "Hombre, they are good!" he said at last "They are _all_ good! Two of the mares are in foal to the stallion. I have named him Osito: the little bear. They are good horses and he will be a great stallion one day. He has such agility and grace; I think he will make a fine cutting horse and will breed excellent ranch horses."

Buck's eyebrows raised and his smile grew.

"The only question is how we are going to drive them to Casa Cueva with you..." Mano gestured to Buck's prone body "...laid up."

"Mano, those horses still need to drink don't they?"

"Sí, Wind, they do. Why?"

"If we drive them this way to the stream, they can drink their fill, and we can drive them on when they're done."

"Sí, but it would need all three of us to keep them together as we drive them down to Casa Cueva, Wind, because they are still quite wild. They don't have to do what we want and could easily run off. No, hombre, if Buck is not up to riding, we must think of something else."

"Hey, Mano, remember what you and Roy done gettin' 'em to follow our water buckets when you brung them horses down to our ranch, Remember?"

"Sí, but Buck, we do not have three or four days to wait them out. This canyon has no grazing like the other one. They need food as well as water."

"Well, what about we give 'em food, too?"

"Buck, where are we going to get food for horses?"

"Mano, we've got some horse feed, well a sort of horse feed, anyway."

"And what is that, amigo Wind?"

"Vaquero gave us some oats. I guess he thought we might want to cook 'em to eat. He put a bag in the pack."

"Oats?"

"Yes, I'll show you." and Wind jogged over to the tree where Buck had hung the pack. He rummaged around a minute, returning with a sack holding five or six pounds of raw oats. "Look," he held up the burlap sack, then untied the top, reaching in and pulling out a handful of rolled oats.

"Ah muy bien. Those will work. Not a bad idea, Wind, not bad at all." Mano beamed. "Buck, if we pad you up really well, could you sit a saddle at a walk?"

"Shore. I could mebbe even manage a jog if it was slow."

"Bueno! Then we try… no, we will do this thing. Buck, I have some ideas about what you can do with the oats. Wind, if you carry extra water and we put more water on the pack horse and cut down the rest of what she carries, we might just arrive in Casa Cueva with a new stallion and seven mares." Smiles broke out all around, with Mano's the broadest.

* * *

That night around the campfire they planned their route to Casa Cueva to avoid the bigger water holes and to pass only one small one along the way. They meant to keep the horses moving at a slow pace, enticed by Buck's stopping every now and then to give them a mouthful of grain and Wind's offering them water. As for water containers, they had only a skillet and coffee pot, and these would not do, but Buck had an idea about the tree.

"Remember how we give water to the mustangs up at the C-Bar-M from the buckets we made? Now if one of us was to have somethin' waterproof-like oilcloth or even a rain slicker, I bet we could whittle some of them smaller limbs of that tree fer support an' make us somethin' that'd hold water. You got a slicker with you, Mano?"

"No, hombre."

"Would this do?" From his saddlebags, Wind retrieved a dark rain poncho, with a waxy sheen to it. "It's waterproof. I rubbed wax on it not long ago."

"Boy, I used ta have one like that myself. Lost it before the war. That's U.S. Cal-vary issued. Where'd you get it?"

"It belonged to my mother."

"I'll be. Ain't seen one of those since I signed on as a cal-vary scout in Oklahoma, Kansas an' Missouri before the war an' the blue bellies give me one…" Buck grew quiet, almost pensive, then added in a low, serious voice: "You shore you want us to use that? If it was yore mother's, you prob'ly wanna keep it."

"Nothing may happen to it. If we can piece together a frame, this can be the lining of the trough."

"Tha's a good idea, boy." Buck looked off into the distance rather than at Wind. His voice trailed off. Mano noticed the shift in tone and looked at his friend but asked no questions.

"I'll go to the tree and bring back enough limbs and branches so that we can see what we can do," Wind offered. "Or maybe I can chop out a shallow trough from the section that split off. The tree is young, still full of sap, so it won't suck water the way old wood might. I'll see what the tree gives me."

"Hey, pardner," said Buck, "a wood trough-now that jes might work. It jes might."

"Sí, good idea. If we lighten the load on the pack horse, she can carry more water. But let's go in the morning, Wind. Early. I will accompany you, eh? We need to get some sleep tonight," Mano said. The truth is, I need to get some sleep, he thought.

"I'll be feeling better tomorrow," Buck agreed. "I done nuthin' but rest this afternoon an' evenin' and I ain't no way near as sore as I was. But hey, Mano, I forgot to ask. How you feelin'?"

"Yeah, Mano, how are your ribs and chest? Have you recovered from our fall?"

"Yore fall? Whut happened? You didn't say nothin' 'bout no fall."

So the whole account of Wind's adventure with Mano in the canyon came out amid laughter and stories shared over their evening meal and campfire. Mano insisted he was fine, but Buck caught him wincing when he lay down that night and wasn't so sure that his friend was as all-fired fine as he was making out. No doubt the show of bein' fine was all fer Buck's benefit. Well, S'nor Montoya, we'll jes see about that tomorrow, Buck decided.

* * *

Morning dawned cool and clear when the smell of fresh coffee awakened the men. The boy was already up. He had gathered wood, laid the fire, and lit kindling. Flames consumed the smaller pieces and licked up about the larger logs. The coffee pot boiled on the stone.

"Fire's about ready. I'll head on up to the horses and be back soon with something from that tree to hold water," Wind said. "Don't wait for me to eat. I'm not hungry and I drank a little coffee already." He stuck his hatchet in his belt along with a hunting knife and set out on foot for the canyon.

"All right," Mano said. He winced a little as he rose from his bedroll to fetch the skillet. Buck eyed him, thinking, you're ailin' an' when you're good an' ready, S'nor Montoya, mebbe you'll tell me what's goin' on. I'll jes wait you out a little longer.

"We are running low on supplies," Mano said as he placed the last of the bacon in the skillet and the last of the tortillas on a tin plate to warm next to the fire. "Good thing we are returning to Casa Cueva today. Buck, we'll save a little for Wind. Here, hombre. I think he makes better coffee than you do." He handed his friend a tortilla with bacon and a cup of coffee before returning to the fire and getting his own food and drink. Mano sank back down next to Buck and the two men ate in silence. Mano fetched them each a second cup of coffee, then closed his eyes to think of all they had to do.

A good hour had passed when Wind marched back into camp, carrying a shallow trough, maybe two or three feet long and four inches deep, under one arm.

"I just finished what the lightning started," Wind said as Mano stood, took the rough wooden trough, and held it up to admire it.

"Hey, this will do nicely, amigo. It won't hold much water but maybe three, four horses can drink at a time."

"How bad you hurtin', Mano?" Buck interrupted, surprising the other two.

"Cómo?"

"You heard me, S'nor Montoya. How bad?"

"Not bad. I'm fine, really. Do not worry, amigo."

"I ain't worried, but I ain't convinced either. You was sore last night, I see'd. You could hardly lay down."

"Buck!" Mano replied, annoyed.

"Don't you Buck me. You tell me what's ailin' you, afore I whomp you to find out."

"Para esa mentira, hombre," Mano sighed. "All right. My ribs are sore; my chest, it pains me to breathe. I think I may have hurt myself when I pushed Wind out of the way of Osito. I believe I bruised my ribs again. It is not important."

"Mano, I had no idea."

"No, Wind, It is all right. I do not wish to talk about it."

"Boys, this means we all got to go slow, because you cain't rush around with banged up ribs and I cain't go quick cos o' my injured 'pride'. Wind, you're gonna haveta take quite a bit of the load yourself, son."

"I can do it, Buck, Just tell me what you want done. We should make the drive in a day if we start soon."

"Sí," Mano nodded. "We leave now and just keep going. No stopping, no waiting, just riding. Slow we may be, but at least we'll get there. Maybe by nightfall."

"Wind, you are gonna haveta stay close and keep an eye on all them horses. Mano and me, we can lead and drive 'em some. I can throw a few oats out now and then for 'em to pick at and we can rest a couple times to water 'em, but we cain't take too much time. We just gotta keep 'em happy."

"I can handle it."

* * *

Wind loaded the pack horse with six canteens full of water, his rain slicker tied like a wineskin to hold more, the trough, and dry goods, including a ten pound burlap sack of sugar. Mano took the coffee pot, coffee, skillet and other provisions in two saddlebags. Buck had the oats and another saddlebag with the rest of their items. The three men—now three friends—rode to the box canyon where Mano looped a rope around the fallen tree and prepared to drag it out of the way with Macadoo whenever they were ready to release the horses. Poised upon Reb, Buck opened the sack of oats and held it, ready.

"Aw right. I's jes gonna be like at ol' Pied Piper, tossin' oats here an' there to git them horses to follow," Buck said. "Jes call me Farmer Buck, sowing seeds. Mano, once you move 'at tree and let 'em out, you bring up the rear, keep after the stragglers."

"Bueno. Vamonos, Macadoo!" Mano said, the rope tightening as Mac took out the slack and strained to pull the tree. The foliage gate opened.

"Wind! When they come out, you stick close to Osito, y'hear?" Buck hollered. "You got that sugar an' water. Use it to keep him happy and keep him followin' along."

"Got it," Wind replied. "I've got two kerchiefs ready now."

The horses emerged from the canyon ready to forage on their own.

"Sow your oats, hombre!" Mano yelled, grinning. Buck laughed but held open the sack, spilling a stream of oats onto the ground. Osito and his mares smelled the sweet food and rushed to find it. Soon they understood they could find food by staying close to the men.

Wind kept Osito occupied with kerchiefs full of wet, sticky sugar. The first time Wind dismounted, he allowed Osito to make the first move. Once the stallion found the sugary kerchief, sucked on it, dropped it, and saw Wind putting it away in his pocket, he stayed close to the boy. For his part, Wind not only tempted Osito with sugared treats, but he also jumped on and off his mount to give the horses drinks of water from the trough, which he refilled from the wineskin slicker and then the canteens. I am glad it is you, muchacho, with all that up and down, Mano thought. Buck just grinned.

"Here you go, girls," Wind said in a calm voice as he poured water into the trough and allowed the mares a few drinks, thus ensuring they associated him with water and continued to follow. Buck supplemented the temptation with oats.

* * *

When they stopped to water the herd at a pond, Wind gave Osito another treat. They only stayed for a brief time, maybe twenty minutes at the small watering hole, and then pushed on. It was slow going, the moon rising as they at last they approached Casa Cueva. Vaquero, alert, spotted them coming along the trail.

"At last we are here, amigos," Mano said with a smile as Vaquero rushed to meet them.

"Roy, Teresa, open the small corral and help to get these horses in," the alcalde cried. "There you go. Close the gate, por favor."

"They'll be happy in here," Roy said. "There's water in the trough an' I'll git 'em some feed an' hay, too."

"Sí, in the corners, Roy," Vaquero added.

Wind, Buck, and Mano dismounted as Vaquero snapped shut the gate latch. The two older men handed the reins of their horses to Wind, whom they both thanked as he took their saddle horses and Sally the pack horse off to the stables. There Wind rubbed them down, fed and watered them. They had worked very hard and deserved their reward, too.

"These are fine horses, Manolito," Vaquero exclaimed as the men looked over the mares and stallion while Roy finished putting down the hay.

"Sí, Don Mano y Buck," Teresa added, sidling up beside them and smiling. "Qué bonita!"

Mano and Buck nodded and smiled, then Buck rested a hand on his amigo's shoulder and steered him on a slow walk toward the adobe. "Le's go inside, Mano."

In Vaquero's tiny home, they sank into two chairs at the table. Vaquero followed after, pouring them each a cup of hot coffee from the pot on the stove. "Amigos, are you hungry? We have eaten but Teresa has food which can be warmed."

"Gracias, Vaquero. That would be good, but let's wait for Wind. He has worked very hard and must be hungry," Mano said. Vaquero nodded. Teresa and Roy entered, Teresa dropping her husband's hand when she saw the men needed to be fed. She bustled about the stove.

"That shore smells good, Missy Teresa," Buck said as the scent of onion and pork wafted toward them from an iron skillet on the fire. "What is that? Beans an' pork?"

"Sí, it is called frijol con puerco," Teresa explained. "Oh, Roy, grab a crate so Wind can sit at the table," she smiled at the young man who just entered the house from the stables. A faint smile crossed the Pawnee's face as he accepted the crate and sat down with the men. Roy joined them.

"Where'd y'all find 'em? That is one fine stallion!" Roy began. Before Mano or Buck could answer, Wind spoke.

"Well, it was like this, Roy…." and the young Indian told some of the story, speaking so much that Vaquero's eyes widened, the only indication in his otherwise taciturn face that showed surprise. I may have been wrong about you, muchacho, Vaquero thought. Or maybe you have changed. This journey may have done much for you.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	14. Chapter 14

**The Inheritance Chapter Fourteen: Horse Business**

Three weeks later found Buck and Mano still in Casa Cueva during the days and at Rancho Montoya most evenings. Buck's cracked tailbone no longer pained him although it would be weeks before he felt like sitting astride a bronc. Never did like bustin' broncs no how, so it weren't no loss, he thought when contemplating what he could and could not do. Besides, with Roy boy's horse whisperin' and Ruiz's way of workin' the horses, there weren't any bronc bustin' to do. That boy Wind was pickin' it up, too, Buck mused as he watched Wind and Roy in the main corral at the livery in Casa Cueva. Each worked with a mustang mare while Osito, the grand stallion they had captured, snorted and pranced in a nearby, smaller corral.

Mano stood next to his gran amigo, both men leaning against the fence rail of the larger corral.

"Mira, Buck. Wind is good, no? See how he has trained the misteño to approach him."

"Yeah, Mano. That boy be all right. Roy and Ruiz have learned him what to do an' he's picked it up real good."

"Sí. These mustang mares are coming along well. I think by this time next year they will be able to breed. And Wind was right: two are already in foal to Osito from before we caught them."

"You jes countin' your pesos, ain't ya S'nor Montoya?"

Mano grinned. "You know, Buck we have a lot of good horseflesh, hombre. We need to sit down and figure out a plan, I think. With the mares Vaquero already purchased for us and these new ones...and Osito and Toronado. Caramba. A gold mine."

"You right about that. An' don't fergit Diablo up at the Chaparral. He be ready to cover them mares we got once their fillies and colts are weaned and the mares are ready. Mebbe early spring?"

"And we must sell those fillies of Toronado in Arizona soon, too, no? Then breed Diablo next spring? John will want our stallion's services as well for his Morgan mares."

"Diablo is your stallion, Mano. Yore daddy give him an' Toronado to you."

"Fine, fine, but the horses that come from _my_ stallions and _our_ mares are _ours_ , Buck. And Osito is ours."

"That sounds about right," Buck nodded. "You know, Mano, I'm thinking mebbe Wind an' me better head back up to the Chaparral purty soon though. John's got that cattle drive comin' up an' there's a lotta work to be done getting ready fer that, too."

"Sí, I should return with you."

"But Mano, they's a lot to be done here for our horses. Cain't have Roy who is our junior partner and Ruiz who works fer yore uncle handling all our business fer us, can we? You know Toronado covered them mares last week and it all seemed to go aw right, 'cept fer yore little in-ceedent." Mano winced as he recalled pushing Teresa out of the way when Toronado had been about to kick her. She wandered too near the stallion's rear as she and Mano had flanked the horse who was doing to a mare what stallions do to mares. With Teresa expecting a baby, Mano moved her with more gentleness than he might have used otherwise. His chivalry resulted in a delay of a few seconds and in his being kicked instead. Tornado's hind hoof caught him a glancing blow to the left knee, which was sore and swollen.

"Them mares prob'ly all gonna be in foal to that stallion," Buck continued. "An' these new mares: they gotta be got ready. An Osito, still a lotta work with him. You gotta train Osito. They's a lotta horses here. I ain't shore you oughta even go on the Chaparral cattle drive."

"Ay yi yi. What happened to this life of minimal responsibility I once enjoyed, Buck?"

"I dunno, Mister Hidalgo, but your daddy's givin' you Toronado an' Diablo kinda upped the ante. An' you know somethin' else? I think Don Sebastian'd be proud of you."

"Perhaps." Mano grew thoughtful. "What will John say if I do not return with you? He is expecting me."

"John unnerstands business, Mano. That he do unnerstand. An he also knows mebbe it's time you got along with yore life. Rancho Montoya, what have you decided? Is old Uncle Dom gonna leave it to you in his will and are you gonna take it?"

"That I do not know and if Tío does leave the rancho to me, I have not decided if I will accept it. I have learned one thing. I much prefer horses to cattle."

"Yeah, you do, an' yore good with 'em, too, Mano."

"Tío did talk to me last night about staying on awhile longer."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Buck pushed out his mouth and looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact, a gesture which did not fool Mano, who suspected that his gran amigo had talked to his uncle behind his back...which indeed he had. Buck recalled the conversation while trying not to tip his hand that it had occurred.

* * *

"Señor Montoya, Don Domingo, kin I have a word with you?" Buck had asked the older man a few days earlier. Domingo sat behind his desk puffing on a cigar while Mano was out in the stables talking to Ruiz and checking on Toronado, just returned from his stud duties in Casa Cueva, when Buck saw his chance.

"Of course you may, Señor Cannon."

"It's about yore nephew, Don Montoya."

"Oh?"

"See, you wasn't here when yore brother, Don Sebastian, died."

"No, Señor Cannon, I was not."

"Well, uh, Don Domingo, Mano took it real hard. Real hard. Part of it was he figgered he was gonna be inheritin' this ranch."

"Sí. And this he did not want."'

"Nossir, he did not. Then. But when he come home for the readin' of the will, he was willin' to accept it. He really was."

"Ah. And then the will was read?"

"Yessir, an' you was the heir. I ain't never seen Mano so surprised...shocked...mebbe even a little mad at his daddy."

"My nephew said he did not want this ranch."

"Tha's right. He never did. Course he allus thought it would be his regardless, you unnerstand. Never occurred to him that he wouldn't get it. An' once it couldn't be his no more…"

"Ah. Perhaps then he realized what it meant to him?"

"Yessir. Where before he'd seen it as a obligation he couldnt' git out of, now it was a, a…"

"Birthright?"

"Yeah. A birthright he wouldn't never have. I think he wasn't sure what he thought or wanted then."

"I see. Well, Señor Cannon, you should know that I fully intend to bequeath Rancho Montoya to my nephew if this is what he wishes. And should he decline to accept the duties of patrón, it will be his responsibility to dispose of the rancho as he desires. I am sure he will consult his sister in this."

"Con-sult, oh yeah, Don Domingo, he'd ask Victoria aw right. He wouldn't do nothin' without talking to her first."

"So as far as I am concerned, the matter is settled. However, I will discuss this with my nephew at the appropriate time and allow him to make his decision. I have not known my nephew well these many years, but I did know my brother and his methods were, cómo se dice, rather more direct than subtle in dealing with his son." And my brother was indeed a fool not to see Mano's ability, thought Domingo, although he did not add this.

"Yessir. Well it ain't none of my business. But I do know yore nephew purty well. An I thought I'd jes weigh in. That ain't exactly what I came to talk to you about though, sir."

"Oh?"

"Mano, I don't think he's all that well. He was still banged up from the comancheros when him and Wind got into a tight spot with the horses an' Mano got hisself hurt again. Then he done got hisself kicked by Toronado when the horse wuz coverin' our mares," Buck paused. "He all banged up. If he goes back to Chaparral with me an' Wind, my brother'll have him ropin' and brandin' and headin' on up to Kansas in that cattle drive an' he jes ain't up to it. I know he's young, but he's bin through a lot." Victoria'll be yammerin' at him to do this or that, too, Buck thought, but did not say.

"And how does this involve me? My nephew makes his own decisions."

"Well, sir, we gotta lot of horse business down here, me an' Mano. I was wondering, if I encouraged it and you encouraged it, mebbe we could convince him to jes stay down here with you fer the fall."

"I certainly could use him here," Domingo nodded. "Rodrigo is good, but Manolo is far better in some ways and certainly so with horses. He is excellent with the peóns and villagers. They love him. He learned more from my brother than Sebastian knew."

"Well, it'll be up to him, but I'm glad you agree."

"You are a good friend to Manolo, Señor Cannon. He is most fortunate."

"Well sir, he's been a good friend to me. Like a brother." Better than a brother, Buck mused but did not say. Mano was shore a lot more fun than John.

"Gracias, Señor Cannon," Domingo dismissed Buck with a nod and a puff of smoke.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	15. Chapter 15

**The Inheritance Chapter Fifteen: The Time Has Come**

Two days after Buck's talk with Don Domingo, unexpected events conspired to force the men's hands.

"Buck, I have been thinking about what you said a couple of days ago, amigo," Mano broached the subject between sips of coffee at breakfast at Rancho Montoya. "About my staying here and you and Wind returning to the Chaparral. After yesterday, I begin to think this is a good idea."

"It shore is, amigo, at least that part about Wind an' me heading north, after what happened in the cantina."

Mano nodded as both men remembered the incident. It began in all innocence. Mano, Buck, and Wind had ventured into the cantina for a drink and some food. It wasn't fair to let Teresa cook for them all the time and Chico's missus was a passable hand with tortillas and beans. Chico had set down the beers. It was too early for tequila and they were thirsty. As Chico nudged his bulk back to the bar, the cantina door banged open to admit three rurales.

"Oh no." Mano groaned and ducked his head. Although he was no longer wanted by the rurales, their presence made him uncomfortable. Buck, conscious of his friend's discomfort, shifted to block Mano from their view. However, it was not Manolito in whom the three uniformed men were interested.

"Hey, Indio!" the jefe poked Wind in the chest with the end of his quirt. "Indio! qué haces aquí?" the jefe continued.

Wind had not reacted to the initial poke and, his face stoic and eyes unblinking, looked at the man. The Mexican prodded Wind, pressing the end of his quirt into the Pawnee's chest to emphasize each of the words which followed. "I said, what are you doing here?"

"I am having a drink."

Manolito squinted his eyes and grimaced, fingering his mug of cerveza. Buck sucked in his breath. Wind stared at the Mexican official who saw the boy's lack of emotion as a challenge. The other two rurales turned to eye Wind, who sat calm and still. Sweat poured off Chico and the tap tap tapping of his teeth signaled fear. He stayed frozen behind the bar. Buck stood up, but Mano rose quicker.

"Dejalo!" Mano said in a quiet but firm voice. "No les molesta. Solamente bebe una cerveza." He paused and added in a more conciliatory tone, "Dejalo por favor, hombres! Please."

"Ah, Manolito!" The jefe cut his eyes in Mano's direction. "Here you are again with a gringo friend and now an Indian. Hombre, why do you come here?"

"Why do _I_ come here? Is Casa Cueva not surrounded by my family's land?" Mano replied with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I have business here. I am with my friends, and we are simply having a beer and some food. What is wrong with that, amigo?"

"You have business...here?" The jefe sneered and looked at his compadres.

"We got business here, that's for shore, sir!" Buck chimed in "An' we ain't but havin' some ree-fresh-ment. Ain't no law against that, even this side o' the border, far as I know." Buck smiled but his eyes were cold.

"Correcto. But, señor, we don't like Indians. We don't want them stinking up our cantinas."

"Eh, what did you say?" Mano's face darkened but Buck held him back before he made a move. Wind remained sitting, nonchalant and seeming unconcerned. He looked at the officer and raised his glass in mock salute before taking a swallow. The gesture tipped the balance and the jefe lunged at Wind, grabbing his shirt front and hauling him to his feet, sloshing the beer over them both. When the other rurales joined in, Buck landed a roundhouse blow to the side of one's face and Mano tripped up the other, next smashing a bottle of tequila over the back of the jefe's head to make him release Wind, who had already landed a punch to the jefe's gut. Mano grabbed the back of the officer's jacket and threw him aside. The fight escalated.

"Por favor, señores, my cantina!" Chico blubbered, pleading for the men to take their disagreement outside. The two remaining rurales, Mano, Buck, and Wind lurched out the door into the street. Fists flew, blood flowed, and bodies hit the dirt. Wind jabbed a fist into the face of one of the rurales, who bent over double, groaning and holding his hand over his nose which now streamed blood.

"Chihuahua, tu nariz!" Mano exclaimed, breathing hard and rubbing his own hand to restore some feeling from the uppercut he had landed on the other officer's jaw, causing the man to stagger in Buck's direction. "Hey, he is yours, Buck!" Mano cried, deciding to finish the fight as an onlooker.

Roy, Vaquero, and Teresa, hearing the ruckus, emerged from the adobe and walked into the street to see what was going on. Teresa paused near the hitching rail outside the cantina just as the fight between Buck and the Mexican policeman moved in her direction. After a hefty punch from Buck, the rurale reeled backwards, hit the hitching rail, and spun round. He grabbed Teresa, pulling her in front of himself as a human shield. Mano's rage flared. Only a few steps away, he pulled his pistola and stuck it in the back of the rurale.

"Dejala! Ahora mismo!" Mano hissed, prodding again. The Mexican released his hold on the girl and raised his hands. "Se van y no volveran nunca!" Buck drew and pointed his gun at the two rurales as the jefe, holding the back of his head, staggered out the cantina door. Wind shoved him in the general direction of his friends. Glowering, the three mounted their horses and rode out of town.

"Teresa, honey. Are you okay?" Roy, immobilized through shock at first, ran over to check on his wife.

"Sí, Roy, I am fine, really." She shook her head yes and laid a reassuring hand on his arm now encircling her.

"Let us go into the house." Vaquero spoke up. The quiet little pueblo of Casa Cueva returned to normal, much to Chico's relief. The fat bartender, watching from the doorway of his cantina, crossed himself, shot a look to the sky, then turned to go back inside to begin the clean up.

* * *

"Momento, Vaquero, I'll follow." Mano said as he turned back and re-entered the cantina to see Chico picking up the remains of a chair and setting a table upright. "Chico, aquí. Tome," Mano said, placing some silver coins upon the bar.

"Ah Don Manolo, gracias, muchísimas gracias."

"De nada," Mano waved away Chico's thanks and left to join his friends, convinced that the rurales might make life difficult for Wind if the boy remained south of the border. Thus a few days later, Buck and Wind departed for the High Chaparral while Mano waved his goodbyes and wondered just when he would see either of them...or Arizona...again. He would answer that question himself a few months later.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	16. Chapter 16

**The Inheritance Chapter Sixteen: The Fiesta of Thanksgiving**

Weeks became months and when November's crisp coolness descended, Mano decided to make a brief trip north. Victoria would be making preparations for the American Thanksgiving, he knew. And he also had figured out how to surprise his sister in a way to ensure his welcome, not that he needed this, for they would all be glad to see him. A farmer near Casa Montoya had raised a fine flock of turkeys and had promised one to Don Mano. The man would try to refuse money for the pavo, but Mano would press a generous amount into the peón's hands and all would be happy. Even if Victoria had managed to scrounge a turkey for the fiesta of Thanksgiving that she so enjoyed, a second one would mean more for everyone. He approached his uncle in mid-November.

"Tío, could you spare me for a week or two?"

"Of course, nephew. What do you intend?"

"I feel a need to go to Arizona to check on Diablo and the mares. And to see my sister and the Cannons. And I would like to take Ruiz and, if Rodrigo approves, perhaps Pacquito."

"Certainly, nephew," Domingo purred, knowing that Manolito's plan to take Ruiz would ensure that his nephew would in fact return to Mexico. Mano knew Domingo had grown fond of him and valued his counsel and company, not to mention his ability to discuss poetry and literature, which they both enjoyed. I am fond of you, too, uncle, Mano thought. But ay yi yi, sometimes I desire just to ride free...to places no one expects me or even knows who I am. When one is in his mid-thirties, there is less opportunity for that. But I _can_ go to Arizona.

And so it was that a few days later, Mano, Ruiz, and Pacquito set out for the border, with three saddle horses and a wagon pulled by a team which they took turns driving. The wagon contained, among other items from Rancho Montoya, the plumpest grain-fed turkey ever raised in Sonora, the farmer Gonzalez's pride and joy, crated and ready to sacrifice itself for the feeding of many.

Pacquito Ruiz had just had a birthday and his twelve year old eyes shone with excitement. It was his first trip out of Mexico.

"Cuidado, Don Mano," Rodrigo had advised. "Please watch him."

"Of course, amigo. As if he were my own son," Mano assured him. "Your father will be along, too, don't forget." Rodrigo had smiled and nodded.

With the Apaches in their winter stronghold, the trip had been uneventful...just a broken axle which Ruiz and Mano had repaired...and one precarious high water crossing which they had negotiated. Mano had made Pacquito ride in the wagon holding the crate with the turkey while Ruiz drove the wagon through as Mano, astride Macadoo, kept a grip on the team from the front. The river rose to the level of a rider's hips, but the horses never lost footing. Still, it was a relief to reach the other side.

"Don Mano, I was praying all the while," Pacquito had said, when Mano gave him a grin and tousled his hair as they paused on the shore to catch their breath and allow the horses to do the same.

"Eh, bueno, Pacquito. Perhaps this is why we made it across, muchacho," Mano said while old Ruiz nodded in agreement and crossed himself.

* * *

"Crack!" the rifle shot from Reno on the roof of the High Chaparral ranch house pierced the air as the Montoya wagon neared and then rumbled through the rancho gate early the next evening. Mano rode Macadoo while Pacquito and his abuelo managed the wagon and the two horses tethered behind. Mano paused at the gate to look up at the rancho sign. At last he was home. Or was he? Eh, I am at one of my homes, he decided and nudged Mac in behind the wagon to the front of the house where he saw Big John stride out, followed by Victoria in a swish of bright pink skirt. Sam Butler jogged over from the bunkhouse, and Buck looked up from the corral, slapped the now unsaddled Rebel on the rump, and ran to greet his friend.

"Well, look who's here!" John boomed as Victoria rushed to hug her brother after he dismounted. He lifted her and twirled her in a half circle.

"Manolo!" she cried, "Señor Ruiz, Pacquito!" She embraced each one even though Pacquito winced a little at the kiss she bestowed upon his cheek. You will learn to like such things soon, muchacho, Mano thought as John pumped his hand and did the same to Ruiz. Buck and he hugged. Sam and he did also. Yes, ahora he was home.

"And look what we have brought you!" Mano exclaimed, gesturing to the turkey. "Is it not almost time for the fiesta of Thanksgiving?"

"Oh yes! In four days! I was so worried we would not have a turkey this year. Señor McLeish has left the area and no one is raising them. There was talk of some near Tubac, but my husband," Victoria paused and eyed John, "has not had time to send a man to check."

"Victoria, we have been very busy…"

"No importa. We have brought for you the finest pavo in all Sonora," Mano continued. "Of course we intend to stay and eat him with you."

"Let's just find a place for that fella in the shed out back," Sam's deep voice sounded as he lifted the crate. "Pedro, come give me a hand!" The lanky Mexican jogged over,

"Where are we taking him, Sam?" Pedro asked as he grabbed one end of the crate. At the moment Pedro did so, the turkey let out a loud gobble and snapped at Pedro's fingers through the slats, taking a nip out of his flesh. "Ow!" Pedro yelled, pulling back his hand with an involuntary reflex and dropping his side of the crate, the whole of which slipped out of Sam's hands with a crash to the ground. The cage bounced, bursting open the door. Out stepped the turkey, only to commence running and flying about the ranch yard. Victoria screamed. The men sprang into action, chasing the bird. Mano and Ruiz stood and stared, open mouthed, while Pacquito joined in the hunt.

"I got him!" hollered Buck, tackling the bird only to have the gobbler fly up just as Buck landed beside and grasped at his elusive feet.

"Oh no, you do not, hombre!" Mano roared, laughing but still only watching with Ruiz. They had, after all, brought the bird this far.

"Pedro, this is your fault. Get him!" blared Sam as the Mexican, sucking on his bleeding finger, chased the turkey about the yard. Soon Joe Butler came running in hot pursuit and the bunkhouse emptied of hands who scurried after the panicked creature.

At last Wind emerged from the bunkhouse, holding a lightweight rope. By now the turkey, tired, stood in the center of the yard, stock still, eyes blinking, watching all the panting men, daring any to come near. Wind edged to the outer circle, then walked with stealth closer and closer to the bird. With a gentle toss, he scattered a handful of dried corn near the pavo. As the turkey pecked at the corn, Wind edged nearer until he was able to loop a rope noose around the gobbler's neck and pull tight. With the turkey now on a leash, Wind handed off the rope to Sam in silence and strode over to shake Mano's and Ruiz's hands, greeting them and then standing beside them, arms crossed. The cowboys erupted in a cheer which again startled the turkey, but this time, Sam kept a firm grip on the leash and soon the bird was safely crated again to await his fate.

* * *

What a pleasant holiday we have had, thought Mano as he, Ruiz, and Pacquito mounted up to return to Sonora a week later. The turkey had not disappointed and Victoria's stuffing, potatoes, yams, beans, giblet gravy, rolls, and pies—all prepared with Violeta's help—had been delicious. Where did my sister learn to cook? Mano wondered. He supposed she had watched the cooks at Rancho Montoya. And then again, there was that culinary school in Paris that she had attended for a week while they were in Europe. Quién sabe, but she prepared meals with the hands of an angel. Buck was right about that.

Buck. Now Buck worried him. Buck seemed distracted and even the trip to Tucson for supplies for the Thanksgiving meal, complete with drinks at El Toro Loco, had not cheered Mano's compadre. "What is bothering you, amigo?" Mano had asked as they, a bottle of red-eye between them, settled into chairs at the saloon while Wiley filled their order at the mercantile. "You do not seem, how do you say, you do not seem to be yourself."

"Well things is changing, Mano. You an' me got this horse business. Oh, by the by, we made a killin' on them fillies o' Toronado's we sold. Paid Wind 20 percent an' the rest is in the bank here in Tucson. You gonna wanna look over the books 'fore you go. We don't watch out, we gonna be rich men. An' Diablo'll have his way with the mares this spring. Wind's real good at lookin' after things. We even open him up a bank account of his own. I had to sign off on it too, on account of him being an Indian."

"That does not seem right, amigo."

"No, but it is what it is...till things change," Buck replied.

"So what else is there, hombre?"

"Well, Mano, I cain't rightly say. But you remember that black cal-vary slicker Wind showed us in Sonora?"

"Sí."

"I used ta have one jes like it when I was a scout fer the army in Oklahoma an' Kansas."

"Yes I know. So you said."

"Thing is, Mano, I ain't said it to no one but I do know when I had that slicker last. I didn't lose it. I give it to a Pawnee gal I was...well, I was with, you know?"

"With?"

"With."

"Oh. And when was this, amigo?"

"Years ago. I lived with a Pawnee tribe fer a year, off an' on, when I was advance scoutin' fer the blue bellies. The Indians was friendly an' we got along. An at one point, me an' this Pawnee gal," his voice trailed off. "Well, we was together as man an' wife."

"What?" Mano asked, incredulous.

"Tha's how we lived. It was all legal, Pawnee like legal. Thing is, I left fer a month on army business an' when I come back, they was gone. Camp had been runned over by some Kiowas an' weren't no one left. I tracked 'em southwest through the Oklahoma territory but all I found was an old squaw who told me ever'one had died or been took. She told me the woman had been kilt."

"Do you think Wind has a connection to this woman?"

"I don't rightly know. An' I don't know as I wanna stir things up askin' questions. But the boy is half white. An' somethin' else."

"What, hombre?"

"He got him a elk handled knife jes like one I know I left at that Pawnee camp with...her name was Little Raven. I ain't ast him where he got it. I just gotta think."

"You know what this may mean, amigo?"

"Yeah, I do. An' I don't know what's the best thing to do about it. Do I ask deeper or just let it lay? Boy's finally comin' around. Tellin' him somethin' like this, askin' too many questions, likely drive him over the edge. Or drive him away. I don't want that."

"Sí." Mano paused. "Perhaps you say nothing and wait."

"Wait?"

"Sí. Wait. For a sign."

"That's a good idea, amigo, I'll jes wait fer a sign. If there's more to this, it'll come out sometime, some way."

"Sí," Mano took a drink and nodded. He, Manolito, would say nothing. This was Buck's decision and Buck's life. But if the boy Wind was...well, it would explain some things would it not?

Thoughts filling his head that only he knew, Mano headed south once more with Ruiz and Pacquito. To make better time, they decided to leave the wagon and team at the Cannon place for now. Neither rig nor horses would be missed, and Buck could use the whole matter of their return as a reason to come to Rancho Montoya in the future. Or they could bring the team with Victoria's next visit. He had told the family farewell the night before and the Ruizes and he set out for Mexico on horseback long before sunrise. He would spend Christmas with Tío, then return to Arizona for good...or so Mano thought.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


	17. Chapter 17

**The Inheritance Chapter Seventeen: Las Posadas**

Christmas eve at Rancho Montoya was a quiet affair this year, the second of Don Domingo's ascendancy as patrón. He was glad to share it with his nephew and compelled him to take an active role among the peóns.

"The children at the rancho, nephew, will be making their procession as they celebrate Las Posadas. I disappointed them last year. They would love to have you join me for the ceremony and refreshments," Domingo had said, blowing a stream of cigar smoke. And so Mano had remained, unconvinced that Domingo cared a whit about the children and suspecting an ulterior motive. Still, nothing had been broached. The children had come and gone. And what an enjoyable event it had been.

Preceded by the good Father Ruffino of Casa Cueva, the rancho children had carried dolls, some of them quite large, effigies of the nativity figures in a long procession all around the outside walls of the hacienda, finally entering the ornate courtyard. One young boy, chest puffed out in pride, displayed his figurine of Joseph. A little girl with colorful ribbons in her hair carried Mary. Others toted shepherds, sheep, camels, wise men: a wonderful sight. Musicians accompanied them, playing folk tunes and singing, but most precious was the installation of all the figures in the outdoor crèche. Don Domingo had furnished the money for the people to build a rustic but beautiful nativity scene beside the Montoya family chapel.

When the crèche was filled with the holy family, each figure placed with painstaking care, the music stopped. All grew quiet, as if holding their breath. The silence continued for a quarter of an hour, interrupted only by shuffling feet and the occasional cry of a baby until midnight when the three nuns, who had arrived that afternoon, emerged from the chapel carrying a baby, not a real baby of course, just another doll. The Christ child was placed in the manger and a hymn sung. The young boy who had carried Joseph sang the first verse alone, his voice sweet, clear, high. Mano smiled as he remembered when he had sung the same Latin verse as a niño while the other rancho children gathered round. Even Tío Domingo brushed away a discreet tear. I have missed this, Mano thought. Missed these people and this land. Missed Mexico.

* * *

A grand meal for all the families working and residing at Rancho Montoya was scheduled for the following afternoon, Christmas day. But late tonight, after the festivities of Las Posadas, nephew and uncle sat indoors, settled in comfortable armchairs before the hacienda's massive stone fireplace, ablaze now with a pleasant fire. They sipped cognac. Two bachelors, Mano laughed to himself. His thoughts drifted to Arizona. What would his sister be doing now? Probably preparing for tomorrow's great meal. Christmas was the one day in the year she insisted everyone have a holiday and John, knowing it to be a lost cause, never argued with her about that. My brother-in-law is a slave to the Chaparral. But on Christmas, even the men on guard duty rotated with frequency so all could enjoy some time off.

In Sonora, Don Domingo's kitchen staff would be busy at Rancho Montoya preparing the afternoon feast, but Tío would pay them well for these efforts, extra money they needed and counted on. And Mano and he would get their own breakfasts to allow time for the families to enjoy Christmas morning alone. When Mano had been young, his mother had been the one to prepare Christmas breakfast for the family. He smiled at the memory of his mother, content and glad, always kind, laughing, beautiful, gracious, loving.

"Nephew, it is good to have you here this evening," Domingo interrupted Mano's reverie, then sipped his cognac.

"Gracias, Tío. It is good to be here as well. I enjoyed the children."

"I saw that you did," Domingo paused. "It made me wonder, nephew, if you have ever considered having a family yourself."

"Yes, Tío, I have, but one must be married for that. And so far, marriage is something I have managed to avoid."

"Marriage is something I have also eluded, quite intentionally, nephew. But you, a young man, surely you have come close a time or two?"

"Only once, Tío. Only once. Oh, Papá tried to arrange many matches...he came nearest with a vixen indeed, Anita de Santiago y Amistad. I shudder to think what my life would have been like with that one." Mano grimaced and took a drink. There had been another, he knew, as did his uncle.

"What of the young woman whose remains lie…?" Tío ventured.

"Yes," Mano interrupted his uncle. "Mercedes de la Vega y Granada, a childhood friend. We were to be married. We reunited when she returned to Rancho Montoya, a place she had loved as a niña when her family visited. She had been happy here and when I met her again, I knew that we could both be happy here. She even made me want…all this," he gestured with his hand to indicate the hacienda, and by extension, the rancho. "Never before had I thought I would become the patrón willingly." He paused and took a sip of his cognac, exhaling a deep breath before adding in a soft voice, "She was killed by comancheros."

"What did you love about this woman? Was she a great beauty? A kind soul? Cultured?"

"Oh, she was all that, Tío, and more. She longed to discover what was right for her. Her place. She was searching. She refused the match arranged by her parents, returning here to the rancho that she had known in happier times. Had she not come…"

"She would still be alive?"

"Yes. To be honest, I have never recovered from the guilt of believing that I was somehow the cause of her death. I know it was her choice, but had she not been here or loved me…" his voice trailed off. "Well," he said after a moment. "I try not to dwell on it. However, I do wonder if she was my great love and if such a time, for me, has passed."

"Nonsense. You are young. There are many women. You came close once. You will come close again. You need only find the right one," Domingo said, thinking...perhaps...ah, nephew, we shall see.

"Tío, I know this, but none other has attracted me as Mercedes. To tell the truth, most women, even the saloon girls, bore me now. I toy with women. Or they with me, and lately I have not done even that."

"Nephew, permit me. Perhaps you toy with the wrong kind of women."

"Perhaps."

"And now?"

"And now what?"

"Manolo, I hesitate to discuss this on Christmas eve, But I do not intend to marry and I will have no heir save yourself. This is what your father desired. His letter made his sentiments clear. I have not pressed you, but the lawyers must be notified at some point. What a disaster it would be should I die without a proper will."

"Tío, you are strong as a lion."

"And so your father appeared to be, nephew. I do not intend to die for many years, but arrangements must be made, and I wish to know your desires. There are other options: selling the rancho, dividing it, although I do not believe my brother would have approved of these choices. Still, he is dead and we who are alive must decide matters."

"I have thought of it, Tío," Mano admitted. "I still loathe the idea of such vast responsibility. But I love Rancho Montoya and wish it to remain in our family. I shall accept the legacy, providing you promise that this does not happen too soon," he smiled. "I am in no hurry. I wish you a very long life."

"I am glad to hear it," Domingo replied. "I have taken the liberty of asking the lawyers to come after the first of the year to draw up the proper papers. Whatever your answer had been, this would have been necessary. I am glad of your decision, however. Your sister will approve, this I know."

"Oh, yes, Victoria will be beside herself. John, too," Mano agreed. He could hear her now. Oh, Manolo, Papá would be so pleased. As am I.

"Nephew, I feel I must ask something that you may consider quite personal."

"Oh?"

"Your income. You receive money from your horses, no? But this cannot be a steady source yet?"

"No. We have a great deal of overhead and we pay percentages to those who help us. Most of what we earn goes back into the business or remains in our accounts so that we have it on hand for expenses and opportunities to purchase good horses. But someday it should be quite lucrative."

"Señor Cannon? Does he pay you as a ranch hand?"

Mano laughed. "No, not really, uncle. Sometimes. I stay there for free, of course."

"This arrangement, you at the Chaparral, how did it come to be?"

"That is hard to say, Tío. At first I went along to accompany my sister, to see that she was not mistreated, and, when she seemed to be happy, eventually, I decided to stay. I don't think any of us expected me to stay as long as I did. I know Papá believed I would soon grow bored and return to Sonora. He said as much." Again and again he said it, thought Mano, but he did not add this.

"And why did you stay? Your future was here."

Mano paused. "I do not really know. I guess...I guess I stayed because I was needed. Oh, and these people had become my friends. Buck Cannon is as close as a brother to me. Closer. But I also think they needed me. I was of use. And John did not kick me out." Mano paused, recalling that his brother-in-law had fired him once, and that stealing John's horse had not provided the best of starts between them. He continued. "It became easier to stay than to return to Sonora. Less was, eh, expected of me there."

"Your father?"

"Papá wanted me here, but he did not _need_ me here, entiendes? Anyway, the way things were going, I would likely have been shot dead in an alley in Nogales or hanged by the rurales, had I not gone to Arizona. I did some very bad things, Tío."

"Nephew, you are not alone in that."

"Yes, the parallels between us have not entirely escaped me or anyone else, Tío. I seem to recall Papá storming at me that I was going to be just like you." Both men laughed.

"Ah, your father. I do wish I could have spoken to him one more time," Domingo mused. "He would be surprised to see how I have changed."

"Sí," Mano agreed and fell silent, thinking of his father and taking a drink.

"Well, nephew, I think perhaps when the lawyers arrange matters, you should be due some sort of income from Rancho Montoya."

"Uncle, this is not necessary. I do not…"

"Nonsense, it is your right. Nothing more. And you are needed here as well as in Arizona."

Mano nodded. "All right, Tío. Gracias."

"And nephew, one thing more I ask of you," Domingo continued, after some minutes..

"Sí, Tío?"

"We have received an invitation to a ball to be held at the presidential palace in Mexico City. The governor of Sonora will be honored. It seems a long way to go, but perhaps, politically expedient? Would you accompany me? It will be at the end of next month."

"Eh, Tío? We will attend just the governor's ball? We will not be visiting any of the big games? I do not care to see General Casados again."

"Just the ball, nephew. I think it best we avoid other diversions. And you need not worry. We shall leave the deed to Rancho Montoya safely here in Sonora." Both men remembered when Domingo had pocketed a small fortune after staking the entire rancho on a single hand of poker: cards up. "General Casados has not forgiven me for besting him with those three tens."

"All right, Tío. Why not? It could be interesting, I suppose. At some point, you understand, I must return to Arizona, however."

"Of course. We shall take the stage...unless you prefer we shorten the journey by traveling to Guaymas and boarding a steamer along the coast?"

"Ah, no, Tío, I do not like the ocean, por favor."

"Bueno, then it is settled. Thank you, nephew, and, may I say, Feliz Navidad?"

"Feliz Navidad, Tío." You old gambler, Mano thought. What have you up your sleeve now? How smoothly you worked this conversation. And ahora, Manolo, you have just agreed to become the patrón of Rancho Montoya, something you have always dreaded. "To your health, Tío," he raised his glass. May your life be very, very long, Tío, for many reasons, he thought.

"To yours also, nephew," Domingo responded with an inscrutable smile, his lips and moustache curved only at the very ends. I wonder if our stay in Mexico City will be all that brief, nephew, he thought but he did not say.

"Eh, you have moved Papá's portrait in here," Mano said as he rose to leave, spying the large oil painting on the wall beside the door, facing the desk. He had not noticed it when he walked in, his back to the door.

"Yes, I found it in the smallest guest room and thought it deserved a more prominent place. I had Pepe move it this afternoon."

'You know Papá always hated that portrait."

"All the better that it should be here," Domingo smiled. "I do not know why. It seems an excellent likeness."

"I always wondered myself. We Montoya men are vain. Perhaps the artist included too many wrinkles or too much gray hair. Or charged too large a price," Mano grinned. "Or maybe," he mused, "you know, he had it done not too long after Mamá died. The appointment had been longstanding. I wonder if they were supposed to be painted together and he regretted the delay." He blew out his breath and sighed. "I never asked. I guess we shall never know." He raised his glass to his father, took a final drink, set down the glass, nodded to his uncle, and made for the door. Feliz Navidad, Papá, he thought as he headed upstairs.

Domingo stood in front of the portrait, also raising his glass, thinking. To you, my dear brother. I wish you could see all of this. Gracias, hermano. You did well. He paused, looking into the eyes of his brother's portrait. But I must say, Sebastian, I still think you a great fool concerning your son. Did you not realize, my brother, that a thoroughbred must be handled with a light and not a heavy hand? No, this you never understood. Feliz Navidad, hermano mío. Feliz Navidad.

" _The Inheritance" is the creation of VKS & MJRod, who originated the characters of Teresa Lauder, Valencio Ruiz, and Pacquito Ruiz with the intention of honoring all those involved in the making of our favorite western, "The High Chaparral."_


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